POET OF A VALLEY

Innocent he is laying in a pool of blood
For him waiting, his mother back at home
Soon he would come, soon he would come
But not knowing, of his last coming
Many of these stories are from the valley
Forgotten by the world surrounding her
Who seeing her mountains from a distance
Unknown of these stories, call her a paradise
I heard another poet yesterday, of the same valley
Who lost his piece of heart belonging to someone
He just waits for the rain to fall from the heavens
To help him with tears, that otherwise have dried
His happiness lost in that grave
Grave where he left his piece of heart
But that beautiful face haunts his eyes
Which took his piece of the heart along with a smile
For him, there is no more paradise there
All he sees are just graves in a deserted land
Is there any market in the world?
From where I could buy a smile, for his lips
Somebody told me that a person in the valley has become rich
Seeing, it was the same one who used to sell shrouds for the dead
My heart is also losing its essence of life day by day
Why not? When our eyes in the valley are seeing only death…..