Band Of Brothers Poem by Mohammed Khaluq

To smile is to dream and to dream is a crime
For a band of Brothers whose bodies, to guns’
Bullets, are shelters. In a city has passed its prime
Every street is an alter where shelters are none.
How to live when knowing the death chariot
Is behind, chasing you fast without a sound,
And it is not insight. With a blink your spirits
Are above seeing your bodies lie on the ground.
O, Brothers! The symphony of death is played
When the sun rises upon your graves,
And when it sets and pale light is conquered
By darkness and to darkness you are slaves.
You know what you will surely face,
Yet you are madly in love with this place.