💥Thirty First Night
—Zahidul Jamy

The Third World War.
The earth itself is a ticking bomb.
Oil, weapons, and greed—
Empires gather around vast tables,
And borders shift with their whims.
Every inch of Palestine’s soil
Is soaked in blood.
Bulldozers crush homes,
And concrete muffles
The cries of children.
Russia, America, China—
Their games redraw the maps.
Kyiv burns, Gaza weeps,
And lives are traded
For lines on a paper.
The glittering cities—
Mirrors of a dark world.
Beneath the neon lights lie
The uncounted corpses
Of the silenced.
2024 knew nothing.
Its days were a history of calamity.
Villages drowned in rising seas,
Fields perished under drought.
Some said the earth
Needed rebuilding.
But who will rebuild it?
The same hands
That profit from war?
That tighten the noose of oppression?
2025 approaches.
What promises do you bring?
Another cycle of power and deceit?
Or the faint light of change?
This is the Thirty-First Night.
Raise your glasses of wine—
Let them reflect the blood of the innocent.
Let your songs be silenced
By the echoes of explosions.
This night is not for celebration.
It is a vigil for the oppressed,
A pledge to ignite a new fire
Against the tyrants.
31.12.2024