For the Sake of the Passing Months

In January I was born
Happily I was torn
From nothingness to today
With breathing and all I pay
Putting up with this world so ridiculous
How am I alive is miraculous!

I see the irony in February
A man is different from the authority
No matter what is right or wrong
We can hear about it only in a song
Whilst we bear
All the insanity and the fear

March comes with its own story
All the cheerful and will always carry
It grins
Overlooking our filth and sins
Pray—let it shine
Let it takes us to cloud nine

Albeit April knows too well
All’s not well
When home becomes a refugee camp
Life turns into a swamp
See the gun-slinging bastards galore
Each day we are only deceived more

When the heat of May prevails
The thieves we call the masters get bails
We are almost in a prison
Regardless of the season
Freedom and independence are over-rated
Inside the cage we are badly junketed

The June rain has failed to wash away the grime
Living in a jungle of crime
The masters are slaves and the slaves are masters
The looters are rulers and the rulers are looters
In the shadows of our dream
We are holding on a hope in an illusory stream

July is lame
Everything is same
Obvious as the day and night
When the idea of revolution becomes tight
There is a glare: a flicker of revitalisation
Though, it is not without the current condition

When the heat leaves in August
The ember ever mars the trust
It’s hard to say, as continues the tense
The prayer for cloud nine is a nonsense
When money is the negotiator
When gun is the treater

September should have a song
For all this wrong
When life got to have some meaning
All we have is living
Earn, save, spend, run
Whilst each moment is lost in a turn

In October I’d wish for a life at home
No different from others, come heatwave or storm
For convenience what if every place is the same
When nationalists will never ever have to take the blame
Passports can go up the arsehole
Too much order in the parts are goofing up the whole

On any day of cold November life assures
All’s not bad after all and time cures
We have to see only the bigger picture in the end
The good and the bad blend
But we cannot even say which is which
Until it happens to us

Before the year ends with December
I need events and things to remember
For those will be all when I have to leave
I want to see the gods should they bereave
To see its creations leaving year by year
But not; it only exists for a believer




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