Days for you are same as cold as nights
Feet forgot to walk; laid in decades.
Doors were closed for years;
Eyes were fastened.

Flames never felt for so long.
Heart never beats for love.
Hands never held a pen.
Breathing was a struggle.

Pen and paper were stocked.
Table was filled with dusts and webs
Bulb never used for illumination
Thoughts never wrote.

Several bombs explodes
 Killer guns are fired
Dead people are everywhere
Screams arise. War is on.

And there you are
Running from afar
You start to carry a child;
1.. 2.. 3..
Lifting them at the same time

Tensions are everywhere
You dare to winch up broken walls
The way you try to lift up their hope
You pick few from under wrecked debris

Until one bullet travels from the unknown gunman
A shot that placed intentionally
That passes into your left chest
And that caused you to feel faint.

You started to breathe hard
But you keep on running with a child’s hand on yours
You feel the struggle in concentrating
So you suddenly dropped; released child’s hand

You are fighting between dying and living
You keep on chasing every air you breathe
staring on the milieu,
You know that they still need you.

And that was your dream.

You wake up
And your heart starts to beat lively
Feet is now on the ground
You begin to walk slowly—
Approaching the closed door to open it at last.

Open door reveals the sunshine
Its rays touch your skin once again.
Ears now craving for music
Gasping now is not a burden.

Thoughts are alive again
So you search for your old pen
And paper. And your hungrily grab them.
And start to write… about your dream.

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