Under a Glass

I rooted myself in a corner;
Far from scrutiny, or so I thought.

An event robbing me of a lifetime,
Turning me gray and vain.

Pride is my driving power, the thread
I fear to cut, being fueled by onlookers
that pounce.

But could I hold on?
When my spirit is being devoured whole?
When the voice of reason is being covered
by the thickness of nationalism?

Should I hang on, when the very foundation that I rooted myself into,
Has turned upside down and is now decaying?

Is there a point in believing it could be fair?
When all faults are directed in your direction?

The verdict is yet to be sentenced,
The turmoil yet to calm.
But I know one thing is certain–
I’ll start to grow again, once released from under this glass.


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