The journey from a school girl to a refugee was mournful and long,
Now that we are done with war let me know who won and who was wrong.
In and out the reporters go, fabricating fascinating stories making us martyrs and warriors,
If only someone cared enough to know that we are mere unwilling and imminent survivors.
When you decide to take an eye for an eye, lives are uprooted,
Homes gone, we are destitutes and left to beg to get safely nested.
Maybe we are not a part of your bigger picture, and are mere pawns that don’t matter even when cast aside,
Beware, with your petty bloody wars for superiority, you are very much guilty of homicide.
At times, I just want to lay down and curl up like a ball,
But those pervert men are like insects, crawling up in dead night over me and sleeping is not an option at all.
English lessons in morning and unbidden tears at night,
Dreams crushed viciously, families dead, there’s no future in sight.
Seeing the clear blue skies full of euphoria and glaze, it would seem that the war never happened,
Only if the sky reflected our survivor’s remorse and inner chaos, it would be etched in fire and stones, calmed by occassional rainstorms.
Days and nights pass by, healing inner and outer wounds with us trying and failing to be strong,
Now that we are done with war, please let me know who won and who was wrong.