Another long bus ride,
this journey lasts far too long,
in a black cardigan with the backpack by my side,
I close my eyes and it passes as though a two minute song.
Passing streets, children starving to death,
passing streets, children munching on treats,
dancing on the endless, barren heaths,
only to collapse and draw one last breath.
Buses pass by, seasons change,
thunder contaminates the clear skies,
your company left me weirdly deranged,
my lips sealed, for the world ignores my cries.
Surrendering to an alternate reality,
envisioning the ride back home,
what hath caused such a wrecking calamity,
wandering every inch of soil, before I mix with silt and loam.
Sia Shete 