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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required when scorpions crawling on the boiling sands dance the dance of death with tail culled up the gaudy toadstools grow in the dark and dampest spot in the wasteland, and as day progresses the never-ending merciless killing under the very same scorching sun that hangs high above the wasteland drags on and on in the urban, areas where people carry out the activities of daily routine to sustain ordinary lives. on the street and alley the children’s corpses though laying here and there no one knows how to stop the deafening roar that comes from the blasting bombs and the report of the guns that take more innocent lives away from loved ones which do not allow even a moment to the bereaved one to mourn with own accord, and when the tears of a woman in black burqa slaps forehead and bangs her breast with palms and cries, her maternal affection benumbed and become stone as her tears coagulate and harden. a small rough and simple wooden coffin goes carried by the stern looking bearded men followed by not requiem but the shout of the angry crowd brandishing empty fists that won’t do anything in air the agony of the incompetent father who incapable of keeping his dearest daughter’s life nor able to provide a decent funeral and burial services for the child’s last journey overlays the new-soil-covered little grave as many layers of sigh after sighs. when the tanks and armored vehicles sweep through the street where many, many of those horrible stories rolling and flying all over like autumn leaves, the soldiers with dust covered combat boots dash into the street with unceasing gun shots that hit the shadows because it moves, only because it breathes, and therefore must be slaughtered. the fireballs hotter than boiling sun shoot in the air with loud report on the other side of the street. and between those ear-piercing roars another angry wave marches on the street carrying a small coffin, and in this chaos eventide with no tomorrow dyes the corner of sky above the faceless battlefield with the red of blood.
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