Unsaid

Riders of freedom… Writers of freedom… You can find dreamers of freedom too, it’s not hard to find they are just silenced mostly choked with guns and suicide bombers ready to send you with themselves to heaven all over Kabul in my country, my country? Do I have to call it my country? Sometimes I refuse to accept it as where I am from, where my people are from, where my blood belongs to. I don’t feel I am accepted there, my people aren’t. 

 We are humans we want something to be proud of, but just for proud? Not for living?.

 My people are longing for a normal life, for not being killed with the crime of race and religion. But I’m not here to make a life speech because my leader already did and what they did to Baba Mazari isn’t hidden from eyes who want to look for the truth, such a scandal for the people who call themselves students of islam religion, some like Taliaban.

The leader who was murdered with the crime of asking for freedom and equality, what a leader, what a sacrifice but I don’t want to be sorry in front of him after not  choosing to keep the silence farther than it is, after I told the world what he meant to say, after asking for what what he asked for in the country of freedom, peace and equality.

 All he asked for was a peaceful, civilized life when we are all united and don’t shatter any blood to the ground because of an individual’s race or beliefs but it’s not an individual at this emarat, it’s now genocide like it was in the late 19’s century, by the one who’s name brings hate to every piece of my soul, Abdur Rahman Khan.