UNTITLED // MAGDA MAGDY

1.

Sing.. Sing..
Of the insipid misfortune that has befallen us
Silent tongues
Must be fed ardently.

No more complaints
No more pleas

All inept wishes answered.

2.

Remnants of blood-shot victims
Falling before panic-stricken faces,
Eyes swooshed out of place,
Walking on empty fire bullets canopy.

Their story will be told,
They’ll adopt unanimous tongues,
Well-rounded-
And evade into the otherworld.

Chanting in unison against the regime,
"The revolution will not be televised"
But must go on..

Political prisoners
Dwell in their cells
waiting,
anticipating,
for the infallible

Stepping on cold stone,
Bare feet.
Hunched down

Sing.. Sing..
Of the insipid misfortune that has befallen us
Silent tongues must be fed ardently
To continue the fight.