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Tragedy

Indie swizz
Green and white 
On top of hills 
A view unlike 
A tale of heaven, a place to repent 
Now is none but a grave of men,

The song of winds turned to echoes of mist, 
The crown of hind, now blood missed 
Quite waters, a red fountain 
Land of joy now weeps with mothers' cries
A bride, a child travelled to enjoy 
But the bullets pierced the house's spine 

Those who rose from side across 
Left precise, showed no remorse 
Pairs all broke, thrice all torn
The one's who left can only mourn 
A woven day in a ruined past 
Shook the world, now and will
A lesson learned 
To never forgive

Copyright © taha Mohammad

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