In Tayyaba's hands, a phone unfolds its tale.

 In Tayyaba's hands, a phone unfolds its tale,

Reels and Twitter weave stories, heartaches unveil.

Palestinian whispers rise from the rubble's core,

Little voices call, as survival's anthem they implore.


Baloch women, a march in courage displayed,

Sorrow and pride, in a delicate dance portrayed.

In the midst of hardship, a prideful soul unfolds,

Belonging to a lineage of resilience it holds.


Forget my sorrows, the world's burdens may weigh,

Yet worry for friends, as serpents in shadows play.

Children orphaned, yet faith steadfastly gleams,

Oh Lord, infuse in me strength, like eternal streams.

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