Quetta

The town I belong to is a living hell!

Streets were wide open beyond standing mountains,

Crowded with people of same ethnicity and religion,

Their biggest sin since their birth were so.

So they deserve bombs and bullets to wash their sin.

The town I belong to is a living hell!

He exploded himself among the million sinners.

Shall they rest in peace after being dipped in their sinful blood.

Families in search of innocent beloved organs and,

One last missed goodbye and hibernated beneath soil.

The town I I belong to is a living hell!

Mother shall weep by his grave in between her wrinkles

Her scarf showered in tears will never dry.

The town I belong to is a living hell!

They yet have hopes to breath between flowers and sun.

The witness is the glow in their narrow eyes!

They still are praying for peaceful rest of beloved’s soul

Watering roses for new life and new growth.

The town I belong to is a living hell!

They still celebrate Eid, wedding, and birthdays,

With the smell of of henna and vanilla cake.

They still are going to school, and visiting families out of town.

And yet smile when the baby is born crawling in their lap.

The town I belong to is a living hell! ...