A Voice Of Cut Off Tongue Poem by Rahman Henry

What a heaven built we have been!
Where speaking the truth is a sin.

Really, we the people are happiest of all time!
As dreaming is prohibited and a cognizable crime.

Our desire, future and destiny all are but a play!
Our lives is a cycle no-get-rid-of-clay.

Only the road circling we are cyclic night and day,
The order: A follows B, B follows C, C follows A.

The heaven cuts off our wings with comply
And command us: Explore your freedom and fly!

The Heaven cuts of our stings, fingers and tongue
And we got cheer up! played the violin and sung!

Dear heaven! as world peace is, you too are vague!
Just bow to us, 'cause mercy you ought to beg.

As, still now, I can rise a nation's voice and noise,
And still we can walk slow but steady as the tortoise.