Death Of Nations And Nationality. Poem by Hardik Vaidya

I want to paint a nation.
I only see women.
Then I force my self and see some worthy men.
I put a gun to my temple and I see only a few humans.
I see their minds.
It is the turning point.
The acid has just been overwhelmed by the final drop of your alkali.
The colour changed.
Internet came.
Ideas, tongues, people, become nations.
Markets, oil, minerals, cattle, women became irrational.
I shiver what if the Internet goes.
How will I make love to your soul?