I aspire to have been been
Below this six feet ground
Away from quandaries and tortures
For a one-time demise
Is preferable
To dying every other day
I wish I had been
One of those daughters of Arabia
Who were given to death
The very day they were born
Who suffered pains but once
Who were slain but once
Death of infancy
Father’s discrepancy
Society’s malignancy
All but once
But today I subsist
Though I am dead within
Every night I am made to wade
Through a teary tide
I am sorrow’s bride
And in my womb I hide
Conceptions of tomorrow
Children of torture, repression and sorrow
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