Fiona Catherine Jerry
Photo: Viktor Talashuk
This pen will bleed no more
Poetic Justice as you may call it
A self-proclaimed sentence I prefer
Words birthed from pain
I reap harvests that turn black
Minds parched, souls wandering
Empty stomachs screaming loudly
Price tags forged deep down their throats
I hear countless screams, don't you?
Snatching morsels from ones mouth
I have seen water turn red
Not wine this time, but blood.
Even my wounds are censored
Where do I go? What do I eat? How will I provide?
Mere questions with no answers
Dispatched like cattle’s from one land to the other
No pen will bleed again
When all I harvest is ash.
::x::x::x::
Fiona Catherine Jerry
is a student of English literature
and lives in Duliajan
[ Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in our Blog are those of the author(s) / poet(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Publisher. ]
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