Wednesday, October 24, 2012



And I forget
why do I cry,
why do I feel sad and low

I forget 
the wailing of the girl,
the begging bowl and her tattered frock,

I forget
the bullets which killed the kid,
the blood which still stinks.

I forget
the ravaged souls,
the silenced lips,
and their crimson tears.

I forget
who am I?
and what I am here for.