By Roshidullah Kyaw Naing
We tread through tempests with battered feet,
No refuge to live, nowhere to rest,
The world goes on with no thoughts,
Like we don’t fit in here.
Evenings feel bitter and daylight is dull,
Our dreams wash away like tears,
We inhale, but we are not alive,
Only the shadows fighting to stay alive.
We talk, but our words are dead,
Like shattered wings within the flock,
Our cries vanish into the atmosphere
No one cares, no justice reaches.
We yearn for warmth, peace, freedom,
Nothing here is the same,
In a world that turns its back away,
We disappear without a sign.
Roshidullah Kyaw Naing
Copyright Reserved
(Date: 28/06/2025)
