No matter if you lose sight and see not,
But what to those who vision clear claim,
Can see pebbles in the children’s hands,
Cannot see bombs dropping over them.

The burning bodies of toddlers,
Painful bleeding mothers’ eyes,
Mean nothing to them, neither rubble,
Of collapsed houses and the deafening cries.

But they do say, children’s protest annoying,
Slogans raised for freedom blackest crime,
Without any slightest feeling of shame,
They say they do it to wash away the grime.

The so-called champions of the human rights,
Silent with dead conscience and lost insight,
Are the black mole on the face of humanity,
Instead of lessening misery augmenting plight.