the song of death
fades
like a child on his crib
sleeps soundly again
as you hear the
whispers of rain and
wind
from the open fields
to the window
out there far away from
the slumber of
peace the widows grieve
the children weep
with their mothers
as fathers get buried
without
the necessary ceremony.
a thousand stares of blankness
fill the night of stars
another night of stained silence
creeps
amidst the rubble of more
lamentations
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