When have my men turned cannibals?
Running amuck here and there
Searching fellow men’s flesh for meals.
And killing each other in full roar.
Books- one of their hand do bear
“The Holy book”, tells the cover it wears
That says don’t harm even the tiniest living
With their other hand doing the killing.
As them why.
For my god’s sake, they cry.
Now their kids
Whom they felt
That in god’s hands they left
Roam in roads
As poor little orphans.
Oh great poet
Once you said
“Religions are just like shirts one wear”
Now we want to tear
And roam again as nudes
Hoping atleast now for some peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.