There are empty picture frames
Hanging on walls of empty rooms
in Kashmir, Wisps of memories haunting
Desolate mothers and grieving wives,
Fatherless children crying into
a merciless night
Blue gypsies patrolling the
Desolate lanes of our memories,
while we clutch on tatters
of our forgotten dreams.
half defeated by bayonets
glistening in scarlet shadows
There are fading eyes that
Are fixed on wooden doors,
From where - a long time ago -
Hope was snatched, screaming
As it was dragged into the darkness
Of torture chambers that were once
Palaces built by others like you
There was a madness that
We hid under our nails,
Till you ripped them off
one-by-one, smiling as you
Asked us to love you, while
Slowly pouring acid down our
Throats
Comments