Their Deaths Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Their deaths

Most pages are covered
by Queen's
Articles and pictures…

In my mind, things differ
See many in the jails
And a boy is shot dead
In Iran's revolution…

Palace guns aim at the air
He was shot with a bullet…

She lived on our money
His murder caused pity.

Pregnant, his mother
Went to and attended
A wedding that ended.

Everyone clapped, sang
And the guard, a young lad
On a road, Tehran's night,
Kept shouting, said: "Stop! "

Nobody heard, nor cared
Out of gun, ran bullet,
Landed in the boy's head
On mum's lap, his brain! ! !

Everywhere I glaze,
Miseries are framed,
See movie theatres,
Of velvet are curtains.

Silently, sit, observe
Hers and his behaviors,
Feel drowned in wonders.

The poor boy, innocent,
Fell to the meanest death,
But Queen's is a question!