Our Blood
Our blood they say, but a rotten puss
And to our tears they say, water of Absurity
To our demands, they say, bullets and bamboos
Our heroes are lying in graves, it is Kashmir.
We walk with shadows
We talk with meadows
We are deprived of limbs
We are deciphered, Ah! ignored.
They drank from our throats
They kill without reason
We suffer like an innocent on gallows
Ready to be executed
For none of his faults
But to enjoy the Atrocities.
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