The mind of a terrorist - filled up with a feel against the world
I kill, torture, enjoy the pleasure
Of seeing others in writhing pain
They must not die but be in agony
For I'm apeased by their grotesque anguish
The rotten stretch of clinging imagination
Bleeds the wounds with abhored stench
For I care not caress the infliction
Nor try even by chance to make life easier
For, I celebrate the untold suffering
The destiny of mankind that rots like plague
Reeling in depths of insecurity of revenge
I am the very anger in my bloody veins
Yes, my gushing blood is thick jet black
Go ahead tell, yes, tell them who think
Think that my blood runs red
Go tell them it is thick jet black
By aryaindia
Author's comments:
I put myself in the shoes of a terrorist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes; jet black on account of continuous hatred tansfusion... Well wriiten poem...i liked the pathetic sarcasm and the subtle concern in your words...thanks...10