I am looking into the mirror
In my well-designed bathroom.
All chrome and white tiles,
Filled with flowered fragrance.
But all I see is fire
Burning inside the building,
People inside dying,
Women pleading for mercy,
Teenagers with Molotov cocktails
And an enraged youngster
Killing a young girl.
People pointing fingers.
In act of communal sin.
Inside my perfect bathroom
I am washing my hands,
When suddenly I'm overcome
By a flood of commiseration
What am I doing here?
Why did he kill the girl?
i think those feelings can be quite oppressing. the comparison is hard to handle too
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem of commiseration. Well said, can one but do more? Read mine - I Walk in the Sunshine - Adeline