Today, as the day progressed,
Checking my cell, I stressed.

More, I see dead and more hurt
Have to mourn and spurt,
Bloody land, blood in air,
Teary eyes cry in despair,
I often think and ask this question,
Who’s next? Why not none?
Why more boys’ faces and eyes?
Why so much fire, pierced hearts and goodbyes?

And I ask to the weapon,
Can you stop all thou fun?
Printed red, dressed in white,
Pain in eyes, left and right.

Then I ask the mortician in the yard,
“You taking a break or is it so hard?”

~ Firdaus Ahhmad

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