Our Bosom
In our bosom, we lie in shame,
In a tantalizing tone, they ask our name,
Our pride taken, we stand stolid and speechless
And our destiny had been made shapeless.
In our bosom, fear left us lamed,
As lamb stares a lion, we are tamed.
We seem to have all but muscles;
Muscles require solving puzzles.
In our bosom, we ought to be us,
We need no telling to hold hands and not fuss.
Arise and let's face the globe with a presence of mind,
For a presence of mind, let's change our state of mind.
Copyright © Xorla Attadzeh | Year Posted 2016
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