indignation

Every time I hold a pen
memories come in my mind,
of how quiet and peaceful my childhood was
and how my life became now.

I grew up with the fear of leaving,
leaving homes all the time.
Changing streets and chasing lives
who held no promises no more.

I was scared of who I was becoming,
with a tear in my eye.
Always tired of crisis around
especially my nation's,
which sent me once away.

Even though I am strong enough,
I see myself as a little ant.
Who barely lifts a leaf to eat
and fights the air.
If I give up, I will do it for myself.