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They come from far

Blind, I grown blind.

No color, no light.


Pain, I felt pain.

No matter, no gain.


Looking through the mirror glass,

things happen afar.

Taking notion of them,

as they were part.


There's no true,

there's no lie,

everything stays shy.


Scream, scream for those who can't.


Deaf, I am deaf.

No sound, no play.


Help, they need help.

No voice, no peep.


Washing hands, clear water,

blood stains, it marks.

Feeling guilty, sins and borders,

they stay apart.


Safe, safe of being as them.


No earth, no soil,

they have nothing else to take.

We are free, so we think,

but our blames will chase us deep.

Mourn, fake,

money gives no peace.


Don't bend over them,

they just need a proper start.


As long as It's alive,

your sin and mine will cry.

Social ObservationspoemcriticismlifeConcernpeople and actions

Poetry VI ►


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