The wild clouds
Are traveling
In the firmament.
The missiles and projectiles
Are bursting the profile
Of many innocent people.
The children
Are crying on the benches,
And their moms
Are suffering miserably.
Big and expensive guns
Are devouring mountains,
Valleys and cities.
Where is the love,
Amidst all these killings,
In full fury,
Where day
Becomes night?
In the whirlwind of miseries,
Absent are the roses,
Where nature is gloomy.
Man kills himself, why?
For nothing;...
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