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shashank-yathindranathPoems
The seconds, hours The world in a shroud. There's no where to run All one does is cower. The days go by Dead men deny An elaborate lie, Till the day that they die. Hope trickles away Just as blood, From each corpse that lay Red runs wild Wild like the fires at night. There is no solitude here, Once, free men, now fear When their world is run Under The Barrel of The Gun.
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
The Barrel Of The Gun
The seconds, hours The world in a shroud. There's no where to run All one does is cower. The days go by Dead men deny An elaborate lie, Till the day that they die. Hope trickles away Just as blood, From each corpse that lay Red runs wild Wild like the fires at night. There is no solitude here, Once, free men, now fear When their world is run Under The Barrel of The Gun.
A military coup. A world in turmoil, the gun is the most vicious ruler to ever come to rise in the history of the human race.
#war#gun#world#fight#sorrow#grief#violence#mourn#military#dictatorship
shashank-yathindranath
Written by
shashank-yathindranath
24/M/Indian
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
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