I am from a place that I call home – my own world to which I conform
Yet it’s cold and dangerous
Shouldn’t it be my paradise?
I am from a place where men have transformed into cannibals
Maybe it’s a jungle?
I am from a place where youngsters want to live a cool life
Using a gun and knife
Where a gun goes off facing a wife
Is this home?
“Baba No!” they scream
They shoot, “Hhayi bhuti!”
They don’t know who to fear
I am from a place where dreams are trapped under stones
Rolling down from a quarry faster than blood gushing out of a slaughtered sheep’s throat
The higher I dream, the higher the quarry gets