Light it up on the shrine,
Enough of blood and owls
Set ablaze old oak tress
Let the hawks gather smokes
Of freedom that shall come
Light it up for a change…
We did; as we were told,
Democracy still eats
Fowls from same pot in shrine
We were liberated from.
Now I wonder; what is
Of the positive change…!
We had clamoured for
Was is but a mirage
Many die every day
Under the thick dark smoke
Yet smiling; it is strange
We are where we are now
When we have the strong wings
To fly all heights and lengths.
e-Paper Poetry of Vinx 