H. M. Fayequzzaman Fahad

ID no: 21116004

Gripping her child

The mother’s running.

Suddenly, something came in her way.

Something pushed herself out of the way.

Ah! Then she dropped her child!

I saw nobody cared.

Running, running, running.

She didn’t stop.

Everyone’s running;

Running towards the crowd.

They gathered behind a truck.

I’ve known till now

A human is always a human.

But, that day—

I felt, maybe I’m privileged enough

As I’m not running with the crowd.

And may be, I’m not a human either.

Oh, this war of hunger

Leave or kill!

Or,

Political gamblers;

The privileged nobles—

Kill them instead.