by Siddiq Islam

Pile up a few more eggs onto my plate.

They lie there slopped among the ample meats.

Another meal the same and never late,

The yolks devoured. On my brute mouth eats.

The camp is calm and peaceful, full of hate.

How lovely next to bombed, imprisoned streets.

What separates is nothing but a gate,

My army and the people it deletes.