| |
Crying In Whisper
In my country,
Seeing smoky sky
Is nothing,
But Killing kids kills
Me everyday, every minute
Every second,
No matter with
Thundering bullets
Or lightening rockets;
It is being our daily habit
No more choices:
To die or but to die
Silently without even a whispered Cry,
Or a small bit of a registered grave;
It is happening now just in my country!
|
Back
|
|