Stop!(Kanishka Roy) Stop crying! It ain't yet sunny,
Your neighbors are sleeping,
With their mistress and their money,
While you lay weeping.


Stop hoping! There is no cure,
For when metals rain,
No one really cares about your,
Eleven years of pain.


Stop breathing! The air is hotter,
The stale taste of chemicals,
Feeding your son and daughter,
All lost in paper; behind decimals.


Stop believing! Their compassion can stink,
All those divided, now are united,
Like brothers - on ink,
Beneath white burkha’s, agendas foresighted.


Stop trying! Uncle Sam has freed,
Into the black sky, the ‘Hawks,
Flying, landing, preying indeed,
On war-mongers breaking rocks.


Stop begging! Help’s not coming,
The benefactors are in fear,
As the traitors and the patriots keep humming,
Death chants in their ear.


Stop living! Miserable ghouls,
You are broken and you’re dead,
Your disturbed chaotic souls,
Engulfed by a sandy bed.


Stop it! Stop resisting the prophecy,
Give in, as your land falls,
And cracks, consuming your legacy,
Do not fear, Heaven calls!

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