Thursday, October 14, 2010


The sun rolled by
The moon looked on
While we stood there
Wondering what was wrong

The blood of the martyrs
Flowing like rivulets
Thick and red, they were
Going to a complete waste

The spirits of the dead
Kept staring at me
Asking us questions silently
How disappointing could you be?

Our tears, our wounds, the deathly haze
For what? Oh what mistake did we make?
Was it for this miserable day?
That kids are buried by fathers in haste?

That mothers ran out of tears
Crying for the missing ones
And wives stare at the door
Hoping they get their husband's glance

That the dead would pile up in heaps
While their flesh gets eaten by worms
Only because no one can decide
Who killed whom, and whose is the turn

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