The armed militias
Plant gunpowder in gardens
And harvest the souls on the streets
Crushing dreams
Robbing smiles
spreading pains
Everywhere
Here
Dove of peace
Looking for peace
Here
The olive branch
An arrow
Dripping with bloods
Here
All flowers
smelling of crying
Here
The truth becomes a kind of stupidity...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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