The Road to the Crematory

9 06 2005

Roses dried to ravaged, dark and brittle corpses.
Still waiting for the hunt of faithful savages.
As a haunting nostalgia;
The requiem of their veracious tenderness
Or the captivating intensity of redness,
Moisture smelled blood.
When cradle of civilisations gets carpet bombed,
When each wink of an innocent eye boil with tears,
Rampages cry for the bliss of blindness
And foot marks of history get ploughed to garbage pits,
Where should I look for solace?- A melody of harmony.
Winners and vanquished of the day,
You both will have your turns to make merry.
But tell me the road to the crematory of corpses,
There should I burn my dreams too,
And sit mourning till the next one comes up.




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