The dead claims more entourage
Life is like a river that never flows backward,
The grasp of death cold fingers can‘t rewind its course.
Darkness looms, yet the people never take caution,
Common caution to count their days in soberness.
My elegy - cannot reclaim the vanished souls!
Ah! dark was that day when the sunshine state turns red.
My heart stumbled when the news daggered into the air.
The news of the sympathizers becoming sympathizees,
And the dead dieing more on its way to the cementry,
Claiming a score of unnotified closed ties.
My elegy, can never turn the river to flow backward.
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