Tell me the end is the disease. Haven’t we suffered enough punishment for this bloodshed? I’ve prayed for nothing, better to get on your knees. I’ll tell them sweet nothings, as you wake up dead.
This is the district of misery. Death is among us; death is ambiguous. Blood is everywhere; it drowns us like a sea. What have you done to us?
Branches to the soil; roots to the skies. I won’t believe what I’m seeing. Without any thing to see through, they stole my eyes. Where will you be, when we are left bleeding?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem. Rich in depth and imagery. Beautifully conceived. I rate it 10. Thanks for sharing..... Please read and rate my poem 'A humble complaint' on page 2.