Ideal Poem by Nida Nawaz

Should you visit this city of ours?
Then please......
Gouge your eyes
And trample them underneath your feet
The way you deal with burnt cigarette bits.
Burn all these pages of your book on idealism
The way you burn sun dried timber.
And then sever the nib of your writing pen
The way someone chops the head of the candid amongst us.
Now in this city of ours;
It is a curse
To have a vision,
Follow your thoughts
And use your pen....