By Mushira Habib
When I’ll be covered in that white piece of cloth,
Will be whitened out of life and pain,
I won’t be able to see.
‘Cause my eyes will be covered too!
Won’t hear much, as have heard enough in life.
Won’t care much, as my term for caring will be over with the cover.
But won’t I feel anymore?
Do the feelings die in there too?
They died often when I tried living.
But some I still carry!
They never died when they needed to,
So, why when they are supposed to be the only companions?
Won’t the dreams even follow?
They kept life living, so won’t they let the corpse live?
Isn’t it worthier than life?
It sleeps so peacefully, so carelessly!
While life slept horribly, often couldn’t breathe!
Then, when it will be white, the symbol of peace will be covering me,
I’ll deserve to dream of happy days, of fantastic moments!
If not then even, when then?