The Freedom Gate

The bridge is falling out on us
Far from up high, the bricks batter our heads;
Whose angel sent to straighten our necks with rods
And corner us to bend low for their lords,
Who jumped over our fences in replica.

The stars are falling from their places
Like spoilt oranges to smoothen our
path with blood at the toll gate,
As the day turns night in curfew,
We shout to live more to our brothers and sisters in threnody.

The cloud is tearing apart in the sky of turmoil;
With the flag we claimed to be our refuge,
That told us we have the brain of our own to heal our land.
The crickets are chirping on our fences
To fill our ears with lies of the day.

The land is sinking to its depth,
When the soldier-ants engulfed our houses
To rally in our pots of soup;
We light our rags to gain spaces by the smoke of the night
And see-off our friends to the underworld
With the phrase of Patriot.

The old flood is swallowing everyone
Like in the day of Noah;
Our houses are not a safety box,
We run into the streets and sweep by the force of the flood
Into a corrugated iron shell that swallow us forever.

We’re not saddened to pull down the freedom gate
For the name of our friends
Our fathers rebuked us and labelled us ‘arrogant’
when we didn’t endorse their optimism
And forcefully shout, 'enough is enough!'