My pupils you see imprisonment and sadness,
on my tongue a moon cut wound.
My shell breaking to pieces,
My Hops neck lowered,
silently on an orphans shoulders.–
My heart is in your hands hold it tight.-
Hold it so that it doesn't fall in the hands of an ambush.
So that a traitor's bullet doesn't rip it ...
Sir
Neither is the times as you knew before
Nether is the love you saw in stories.
In the past,
Love would be read on the carpet counter,
Embroidered by the hands of young girls.
Names would be written on napkins
And engraved into the heart secretly.
Lovers loyal and brave.
Love and fights between two people.
However now;
Loves Barrens are planted into hearts at midnight,
From famous love,
grows famous Sorrows into lives
From Sinning nights.....
Everyone assumes I'm loyal to love
whereas wherever love sees me it'll recognise me
Longing recognises me
Oppression recognises me
Death recognises me
My face is ashamed of its self
I'm tired sir
I don't want any food from you
I don't want a cup of water
I don't want to sleep on a rock bed,
Just hang onto my calmness with all your strength
So much it makes me scream., Raise your hand and touch the sun
awake it from its sleep
hold me from my heat sir hold me
Hold me to the next day
YOU ARE READING
War
PoetryA book full of poems about war and unity (mainly for the kurds, but it could be classified to be written for other people too.)
