|
| |
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
|
|