YOUR TERRORIST
By: Ali Alizadeh
You call me a barbarian.
I call you master.
You don't speak my language.
My words
noise in your ears; my poems
meaningless melodies.
Your poems
masterpieces of literature.
Your clothes
constitute fashion; your homes
architecture.
My house
the hovel your tanks leveled;
my clothes
rags. My beliefs
crushed by your technology
because I'm a barbarian.
