A day in the life of a refugee
Walking on the damp streets of the newly unknown place, those that held the giggles of our
youth and riddles of our childhood. The road is wet, not by the rain, but the tears all our eyes
sweat. I walked slowly, glancing at the now unknown houses of my old neighborhood.
Eerie sensations creep in my heart as the darkness takes lead of the night. Waking in masses
of crowd, with hundreds of people, deprived of shelter. The thoughts prevail will we ever find our
We keep thinking and wishing for things to be true, entering the welcoming country, the one
giving us shelter and the one which will keep us under some else’s roof. Yes, I am refugee.
Stuck in between the merciless ends of my life, trying to figure out a way, trying to keep my
emotions dead. But sometimes, it does get the best of me.
And that “sometimes” is even today, as I sit by the window, drowning feels, sadness, grief,
pitiness and my lowered self-esteem. I don’t anymore think of myself as a citizen, I’m a refugee,
no place to call home, no land to call country, no field to call park and no world to call safe.
The grey sky keeps getting darker as each thought of danger ignites my mind. The running
away, the forgotten days, the merciless ways and threatening gaze. As the clouds keep getting
darker, the inches of my body perk up, just another day, just another girl, one of the refugees,
never been able stand high and tall.
Author’s Bio : Lass X is a teenage blogger who talks about her journey throughout life in the
form of poems, stories, articles and her series, midnight diary.