War Poem by Swila Bathool

Brutal murders are going on
the wing of peace had long been gone
O, I hear the cries of the hanging head
for their country, the blood they shed

From their beaks, there fall the ball of fire
furious animals they do hire
O, I smell the red colored sand
war and peace goes hand in hand

How can a horse spend its life?
in trenches, holding a sharpened knife
O, I see there the black horse
the whites have used their force

The world sniffs the foul smell
here, they create a blazing hell
an arrow pierced in the dark cloud
let Peace ring, ring aloud!