With an apprehension, I walk on street.
I see a knave behind everyone I meet.
I see waves of blood in the human sea.
I see guns everywhere, pointed towards me.
I have seen my friends blown into pieces.
I have seen my kindred ones burnt into ashes.
Yes friend, I am phobic to cadavers.
I am afraid of your fanatic fervor.
Fair of you is ingrained in my mind.
I don’t want to die my friend.

I respect your values in all its forms.
I extol all your –isms and norms.
Still your ‘war’ may need my blood
You may be planning for some lethal plot.
I believe life as a largess of my lord.
Friend, I can’t live in your dream world.
Your aloof mind can’t read my face.
Your jingoism can never justify the carnage.
My blood gets frozen when I see your red hands.
I don’t want to die my friend.