Friday, December 20, 2013

Leaving Us Behind

Mother cried, father almost died,
For relief was no telling in the world
Of words that forsook us with glimmer,
As the rain melted, leaving us behind.
Turn the gross chicken, turn it and roast,
Forming them will be your saving,
Heat creates cravings, as far as warfare.

Send him back, and send him there!
To be written on card is a forsaken man,
This uncle and aunt will part,
And a real memory will attach to the eye;
Like the squeeze of a juicy apple.

We died, and we cried, forming a meaning
Endangering us with fluttering hearts,
Seizing the memory, ceasing to be.
Naveed Akram
Prasad Natarajan 20 December 2013
this is what war does to humanity, well written!
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