I lost my last resort
no more can I look forward.
Deep is my wound
wounded are the voices of those

ghosts that creep into me tonight.
At last I will regain my old image
standing naked nothing to cover my sick pride
filling the spaces with paint.

Tell me friend do I look sick
don’t lie to me
look closer to the shadows under my eyes
to the white hair

yes you don’t know me
actually you didn’t know me
when there was a place for green in my eyes
when the smile traveled from coast to coast

when hope grew form my steps.
I extend my hand and come closer to the mirror
but I can’t follow the flashing
images of destruction on it,

how much they love blood and death
failure deceives them with victory
and corpses don’t rain on its killers,
dust on this face and the wound

travels from mountain to mountain
and the disgusting pride harvest more victims.
I wait till the place settles
I wait to know why I am here.

The smile fades with every scream,
greenness fades under nasty words
and the mirror reflects only our ugly images.
Their playful giggles sleep on the edges,

I fortify this collapse with more corpses
May be my wounded voice reaches you
shame on you..!!