PEN AND SWORD
Holding this pen feels like healing open wounds. Pen works like a sword, the sword that pierces me and my associates left to bleed. Once I believed, my pen could earn me living but when the stomach emptied, my faith flew from craft and went straight to God. God too didn't like questions, wanted me to chant his highness. I conflated hymns with tyranny. God too said that, he doesn't like me. Now, when I search for any foe or friend. I find I have nothing, neither in hand nor in mind except the pen that used to make me fine. So, once again I tried, but this time to write something not true but great. I suppose I must change, the way I express, in order to please not to depress. And I wrote, "Everything will be fine, all lives that are lost on borders or in attacks, will be sent back. God is ever-forgiving. Each time you commit a crime, just remember that donation for a holy land, can perfectly wash your hands, over accusations of sparking genocides. When you can't slee...