The shattered earth- Divided and unloved

By- Chandini Kola

Why the borders? Why the hate?
What do you hold in the crate?
Why the blood in the perfumes of the wind?
Why do you make us the bait?
Why the lines of control as the end?
When do we all liberate?
Was this your idea of showing love?
What should we all await?

Flesh and tears for the security?
Love or dominance? Is my debate,
Do you hold power to destiny?
Then what's about this so great?
Gifts you send of a lightless candle,
How do you expect us to celebrate?
A handshake or a little smile,
Tell us what it takes to be a mate,
Bygones are bygones; we are taught,
Then why the borders? Why the hate?

What happiness is in a fight?
After all, can you even walk straight?
Are smiles so rare and serenity so expensive?
Is the world so stagnate?
What is the worth of a crown?
For it is only born to assassinate,
Has the power overruled humanity?
Then why the borders? Why the hate?

Published by penfluky

Writing is not a skill acquired through practice. Not for us, at least. Writing is a phenomenon that occurred to us when we wanted to shout our thoughts out. It happened when our brains formed a labyrinth of thoughts with no way out. The only way was to break the walls, the walls we constructed in our minds—the walls which stopped us from letting ourselves out. We broke the barriers using the mightiest weapon, the pen. Writing was our way out of that maze. Words and sentences flowed like a stream of some river, which consisted of A2Z instead of H2O. Soon the river filled the brain and the labyrinth was not visible anymore.

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