Tomorrow,
The streaks of light
Of the ruly sun,
Will pierce the cottony clouds
Again,
And they'll have
Some uncountable cold bodies
Bathed in blood,
Festooning those parched roads,
Again,
Whom they'll welcome
Again,
With:
Seared throat- choked with grief
Lacerated hearts- bleeding pain
And with,
Shivering bodies, where fear has pinned itself-
With helplessness,
In every single pore of their barren skin,
To witness this naked dance of inhumanity
And the nefarious slaughter of humanity!
©Barsha Kumar
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 4:23 PM UTC
Tomorrow,
The streaks of light
Of the ruly sun,
Will pierce the cottony clouds
Again,
And they'll have
Some uncountable cold bodies
Bathed in blood,
Festooning those parched roads,
Again,
Whom they'll welcome
Again,
With:
Seared throat- choked with grief
Lacerated hearts- bleeding pain
And with,
Shivering bodies, where fear has pinned itself-
With helplessness,
In every single pore of their barren skin,
To witness this naked dance of inhumanity
And the nefarious slaughter of humanity!
©Barsha Kumar
Request permission to use this poem