interest in things which used to make me grin. The stories
of devastation have shut up my thoughts. The ink of mine
could sense the rust. The tears of innocent victims did have
a staggering effect on me, their wail from the cluster of
death couldn’t make me go for a good sleep. Their still less
bodies groan in silence. The tragic parody of death pinches
me. It thunders my core and numerous questions punch me
and knock me. The major is WHY
WHEN WILL OUR DAY OF LIGHT prevail again
When will our air smile with the fragrance of Liliac.
When will our strings of vein dance under fresh radiant ray.
Probably yes, we all are waiting for a new day
The new dawn will come with the expectation of million and
by the
Prayers of trillions and by the sincere efforts of humans.
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