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?
