Hi, I looked around the forum for a section where one can post poetry and various writings but could not find it. So I hope I am not misplaced in posting this here but if I am please feel free to remove it.

I wrote this about a year ago and wanted to share it. My incentive for writing this was primarily to highlight the plight of the refugees around the world and to enable people perhaps to identify with them as more than just freeloading obstacles.

The Refugee
by Atheána Kalantzakos

The refugee
That's me
You would never have guessed
I too was once blessed

I used to have a home
And family to call my own
I used to have a life
With my children and my wife

Until the day it was decided
By morons united
To invade and take away
My home, my world, my family

I once used to be whole
Until they came along and stole
All I cherished and held dear
Leaving me with nothing but dread and fear

I worked so hard to build my home you see
At nights I studied to earn a degree
And then the bombs upon us did drop
And life as we knew it came to a stop

Bombs designed to obliterate all
But it was not enough for cities to fall
No, they had to add poison to ensure a slow death
Ensuring NOTHING would survive the aftermath

Gone would be our safety and security
To be replaced with senseless brutality
Never knowing what tomorrow would bring
Only to a guarantee that it would be harrowing

Where I once used to be warm and dry
I now live in a tent where children cry
No longer with anything to call my own
Wet and chilled to the very bone

Now the world now looks down upon me
An unwanted reminder of what could be
Not caring that I once stood tall
Or how I was before I lost it all

Gone is my dignity, gone is my pride
How can I now hold my head up high?
When you lose everything you once ever had
When all your worldly goods fit into one plastic bag

So now my brethren and I have become
A problem, a vagabond, a homeless bum
Go back! they shout to where you belong
No matter who is right or who is wrong

Do not bring your problems to our cost
We care not an iota what you have lost
If we let you in you will only be a drain
A scourge, a burden, an unwanted pain

Who'd ever have thought this could happen to me
An open heart surgeon in my own country
Now I am but a word, vilified by the press
To be parcelled out, north, east, south and west

My country used to be my home
One to which you might even have come
Now I live in a city made of tents
They call it the jungle, makes perfect sense

When will I leave here, where will I roam
Will I ever again have a place to call home?