Why there will be not pain in these words?
When the ink of pen itself is blood

Imagine the state of heart from where they emerge
Also of eyes that witnesse tyranny

Emotions, do they have any value in my land?
Or just a commodity to be bought and sold

My eyes now try to find most darkest part of night
To abstain them from seeing the red

Beauty itself can’t make my land paradise
Nor any claims can make everything all right

What an irony is out there in the world?
They say “Save the water”, but I say, who will save the blood?

Has this world been always like this?
One part of it enjoy life at the cost of death of other

If it is so, then I have no regrets nor any pain
Because to settle this injustice, I firmly believe day of judgment would surely come

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