Displaced LifeA Poem by Anushree
I belong to a lost generation
With no home and family I live here on foreign land The dust in which I grew long behind In severe condition, I get no food Once a month someone comes to heal my wounds But the wounds in heart are left the way they are When the sky turns purple I am reminded of that ruthless night Which spared my body but left a dead soul The stake is nothing less than Survival and wellbeing of the Generation of innocent people called Refugees © 2016 AnushreeAuthor's Note
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