Aura was sorrowful,
With wails crooning against walls.
Anguish sang songs,
So sorrowful and unhappy.
Sound of a bomb : not a lullaby
Was raising up.
Pain was all around,
With humans torn apart.
Blood was in motion,
With no path to drift,
As...
Oh! Mother mine, was it my fault?
That I was born on your lap?
Or is there something more to it?
Don't I deserve to live a life,
With an identity and dignity?
I saw dad fighting all through,
Oh!...