At this hour of the night
when Death declared Its birth
I look around myself
and stare at the muddy earth –
what’s left of me is just so ugly
wrinkled, sad and in so much pain,
what’s left of you is not much either
a crushed resemblance of a man.
It hurts to think, but I am trying -
to figure out how did we end up here –
was it love or endless battle,
that took us where we stand right now?
Or was it others that had hurt us,
or was it us, who took our brothers’ pain?
Is it my life that’s going to be wasted
Or is it you who died in vain?
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