At Midnight

At midnight, I went to bed
but failed to sleep.

In the air, I listened the cry of people
under bombing and the cry of children
in hunger.

'What can I do for them? ' I shouted.

A pen said, 'Pick me up
and write a terrific poem
to teach the oppressors.'

A sword said, 'Seize me
and start fighting for them.'

I picked up the pen in one hand
and the sword in the other.
My blood started dancing.
Now I can neither eat nor sleep.

by Sayeed Abubakar

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Comments (2)

Poet-craft is very weak, not impressive at all. however receiving 239 votes, a miraculous one.
a nice thought provoking poem about your conscious. sure we fight many battle within ourselves. a nice write.