“Why Is This World a Shithole”
PKK disarmed, resolving itself,
Just like Red Kurdistan on a melting shelf.
Paper names, erased with ease,
No anthem left, no right to grieve.
They tell us “peace,” but it tastes like ash,
While borders redraw with every crash.
We fight, we fade, we break, we fold,
Our flags dissolve, our stories sold.
The ones who roared now whisper low,
History buried where oil flows.
A homeland spoken, then withdrawn —
The map forgets what once was drawn.
And I just ask, with blood gone cold:
Why is this world a shithole?