My Once Upon a Time Home

My life there was timed, The culture can’t be defined. The freedom was once there, The joy was very rare. Now it’s a ruin, Does this seem human? This is the wrong use of their so called “religion”, This is my attempt to shift your mind’s vision. Women used to have rights, The rights no one would fight. That’s what you call real oppression, The one that shows no expression! If you haven’t heard of our people’s sorrow, or what may happen to them tomorrow, then remain. Some use this concept to entertain. Most know the feeling of home, The one in which one has grown. The feeling is like a throne, But nostalgia would hurt like a thorn. Since they came, the land is nothing but dirt, dust, and dry, In the place of joy, there is woe and cry. In my attempt to make a change and bring up what may have been missed, this isn’t just a mere outcry but rather a poem that I promised To those that are being forgotten, under the hands of a system that is rotten. They deceive people into thinking they’re just, but all they’re doing is robbing their trust. The rule of taliban is but utter disgrace To all ideals of the human race All that they’ll leave will be ash and dust, And that’s obviously no right and just. This is not to be taken lightly, If so, what is right won’t shine that brightly.