May BE

Season of bloom begun,
Whispering promises of growth,
So are we quite beam with new hope,
Though embedded with traumas we cope.
The flowers in us want to bloom,
But the wilted petals within are gloom.

And so shalt yet be a cruel summer,
The indelible mayhem of last summer;
Of their deliberate genocide on us,
Of all inhumane by the valley psychopaths,
Dimmed days of fear, starve and homeless,
How we felt grimly hopeless.

Turning along with the world,
Yet our lives still floats in MayBes;
Stuck in a dilemma are we,
Of the now and the bitter bygones,
We breathe and live on,
But unlike us they’re gone.

Guilty of laugh whilst they still mourn,
The warmth of their beloveds every morn,
Some goodbyes with empty coffins,
Waiting for a closure palely far away,
May Be we shall stay this way,
In this maze a long long time.