To wake up to the rumbling of my hungry stomach,
To wake up with a starved mind:
Without books to read
Without games to play
Without music to listen to
And brothers and sisters to love you
And more to a broken heart:
These unfulfilled hopes that still pile in me,
Still staying in a concentration camp
For the sins of my genealogy-
Ready to be repatriated from a neighboring state.
Tears fumble down my cheeks
As Rita, the survivor among my friends stays in a refugee camp away from me
A camp where broken hearted ones stay;
One day your heart shall too be there
Kissing with Rita's- where tears are there for breakfast:
Tea, bread, cakes, fried eggs come later
When you wake up to the plight of a broken heart
With no one to care for you
No one to console you
No one to love you
In the morning tears from your eyes trickle into the mouth;
Breakfasting from what is already part of you.
