The country is burning

The grounds, the forests, the streets, the hospitals

No, it isn’t a wildfire, or arson, nor is it climate change.

It is the dead bodies of somebody’s loved one

Because of the medical care we couldn’t arrange.

Who prioritized an election to be won?

The first to walk in through those doors was greed

Which makes my country bleed

The only thing guaranteed

Is death and suffering.

A lesson learned.

For all those who speak against

The carefully crafted atrocities

A subtle, planned failure brewing underneath the surface

To save one’s own breed.

But does death know where you belong?

Can death tell the right from the wrong?

No, it just spreads its wings

And engulfs the masses

In loud sirens and wails.

No, we’ve not seen our country

So badly fail.

Soon it’ll be unemployment

The lack of water

and food

For the last many years

We have done or seen no good.

And yet they’re gearing up

To build something in the capital

To erase the remains of the British colonial rule

Wipe out whatever of our environments remain

And display a power too vain

To inaugurate the Ram Mandir

With the hope of stretching their reign.

So tell me,

Was it a lesson learned?

When to power he returned.

Was it a lesson learned?

When for freedom of expression we yearned.

Was it a lesson learned?

When our loved ones burned.

Was it a lesson learned?

Was a lesson learned?

Eternal escapist, in love with books, football, and long drives. Follow me on IG @ komorebi5

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