If my heart was friable material,
Its broken pieces would’ve emaciated
To powder by now.
And the tempest of lies
Would’ve swept it with the wind.
Despair found home in me, beats me how.
I have grown to spikes of bushes,
But mom planted a fruitful seed.
If the affronts I heard were brick,
Then there would be numerous walls of China.
If my vociferousness was never heard,
Then these words too are minor.
If I lost an inch for every frown,
Then there would be no me at all.
Every morning I wake,
But through ill utterance I fall.
I am a settler in fortitude,
And everyone here is xenophobic.
The world fathoms nonsense,
And here I speak Arabic.
Here are my remainings, deform my galore.
The Asian monsoon annihilates my ashes.
My love, I seek refuge in your store.