It was a sorrowful night,
As our youths filled the streets with flags,
Experiencing the discomfort of independence.
To every soul that night,
Our leaders attached a price tag.
Out we came seeking for peace,
Not wanting to fight,
But our request for peace is seen as a threat to our so called leaders.
The eagle weak,
The horses worthless,
The boutique of flowers withered,
The fertile soil barren,
The wavy black path ******.
A moment of silence,
To all our heroes who passed on for justice.
To us who sees these days,
Days when misery is made easily from sorrow,
Speak of these dark age as history.
60 years weaker and of the worst age.
Multiplicity and Hopelessness,
Violence and Regress,
All on a dark age.