Conscience Poem by nadia abduljabbar
Conscience
Every time I give,
I get instead
Of a hug,
Or a kiss,
A slap on the face,
A hit on the head,
A stab in the back,
Thus to live,
I turn my back
To the living
Like a defeated king.
Why is this?
Because the human conscience
Is dead.
London,
11March,2002
(Women with Wings)
Published in poemhunter on
15 April,2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/7/2026 7:01:44 AM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
