fences that history
built so sharply
they got embedded
in our psyche.
the bamboo curtains,
the iron curtains
could be dismantled,
the invisible fences
spiked onto the hearts,
like a leech they stick
feeding us images
carved out by a history
that moulded us into
losers and winners.
within this context
we live imagined or otherwise
waiting for history to turn
itself on us again and again.
winners determine the text.
"winners determine the text" So history is written even if the win was thru unallowed means - this part would remain obliterated