| Rebelliousness | sound of bullets | and teargas | |
| I stood behind my parents words | their fear | of losing me | |
| My mother called | to tell me about the news | she was watching on T.V. | |
| I used the dirty mattress in the hospital | where I work as shelter | it didn’t shelter anything | |
| Reading about | who’s missing | and who’s murdered | |
| Hoping | he’d | answer | |
| Everytime | it was | off | |
| Needed for this | revolution | to win | |
| What’s good of chanting | when everyone who’d chant | with you is dead | |
| What’s good of chanting if | the ones listening | are still deaf | |
| Still delaying their | empathy or sympathy | to people lost | |
| Emotional pain starts numbing | comfort of my bed cursing this survival | I didn’t ask for | |
| The purpose of all this was to live | Not to end up dead. | Not to end up missing. | |
| Invulnerability | is a | privilege | |
| There | it is | still burning |
By: Israa Abbas
Based on: “The 3rd” by Raj Mohamed Bushara