Her voice echoed in eternity.
While blood spattered from that small body
On that notebook
Lying on the floor
Imprinting red palms on it.
She heard them call out
To the Almighty
From the foggy little distant mosque
She offered a prayer
For the future
A bright one..
For the children of God
For the mothers who bore them
Who don't have to wipe their own tears
Where she could live for a hundred more years
For their childhood
The one spent..
Looking at a misty sunset
That tastes like hope
And feels like a dream
With a privilege of coming true.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
Her voice echoed in eternity.
While blood spattered from that small body
On that notebook
Lying on the floor
Imprinting red palms on it.
She heard them call out
To the Almighty
From the foggy little distant mosque
She offered a prayer
For the future
A bright one..
For the children of God
For the mothers who bore them
Who don't have to wipe their own tears
Where she could live for a hundred more years
For their childhood
The one spent..
Looking at a misty sunset
That tastes like hope
And feels like a dream
With a privilege of coming true.
