# All clues No solutions
Existential despair of sequestered events,
A hundred peculiar alluring stories,
All clues with no solutions.
Mysteries of the sort like quite of night.
The horrific details on swerving lips.
Burgeoning eyes from where innocence;
Flowing and frozen like a river in cold.
The displaced versions of reality are just,
Another being of reality with no distant future.
They were called the internally displaced.
They do not harbor any definition;
In the annals of the high rise made by,
The renowned architects and displaying flags.
But they do not hear of any peace made for them.
They have seen some men made like stone statues.
The white cover of polythene with emblem,
Of peace, and in color blue.
They do not see any sky and they also do not eat.
They shall starve and some others shall steal;
From them what alms befall their misery.
They will carry rotten sweat drenched papers.
As a proof of their existence in the universe.
They shall also long for the bistro like for,
A mother's lap and the fathers shall,
And the honor that is at stake.
They shall be the children;
Of the internally displaced,
And left outside alone.
They shall be and as it happens,
Uprooted and made vulnerable.
They shall then serve the purpose;
They shall then be brutally killed.
In hunger and homeless without any clues.
For the Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) of South Waziristan.
Comments about this poem (# All clues No solutions by Sadiqullah Khan )
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