In the wee hour of the day
When I come to see the world
With the cool breeze and flowers
Swaying spilling fragrance I feel
The day will be spent in a happy mood
Till I found the morning paper
Laying sprawled on the stair gaping
At me as if getting raped and shocked
Mud at its frayed edges stuck like saliva
Of merciless rapists at it is thrown from the gate
Nothing new. News are repeated.
A girl was raped in a lonely street in
The afternoon- passers-by looked at
As if a movie was going on. Some whistled
At the boys who are so energetic and experienced
Blind man crushed to death under
The wheels of a fast moving truck. His
Flesh is stuck on the pillar made in memory
Of the martyrs of independent struggle. Blood
Licked off by mad dogs from the pavement. Same
Experience same awful reading to make you feel low
It is better not to go out and go under the blanket
Sleep takes you far away from the reality I have no heart to face
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