What makes me the real me, for me, for you and the world,
The more I think, the confusion gets confounded,
I will say my soul makes me, but for you what matters is my body,
If my soul lives in another body, for you, it is not me but somebody.
Thinking about it the whole night, slumber engulfed me,
In my slumber I had a weird dream that shook me,
In my dream I met a surgeon who drugged and kidnapped me,
When I regained my consciousness, I found AL-BAGHDADI staring at me.
He abused me and I abused him back, he hit me and I hit him back,
We were engaged in a scuffle and that brought the surgeon rushing back,
He drugged us again and made us lie in his operation table,
He swapped our brains, a dream deadlier than any weird fable.
Now a poet lived in AL-BAGHDADI’S body and a terrorist in my body,
Like devil quoting scriptures, he started composing poems with melody,
I started paving ways for destruction of humanity, oh, what a perverted destiny!
A poet who made verses in praise of harmony now started committing felony!!
The poet will be killed soon as he lived in a terrorist’s loathsome body,
The terrorist will live to plan for more violence and acts that are shoddy,
As I woke up with a start, the question continued to haunt me,
Can anybody tell me, what made me me for the world, for you and for me?