(Written in the memory of my martyted brothers of APS (Peshawar Attack).)
In the midst of brushing my white feathered wings
In profusion which curve at the tips
I heard some nearing nefarious steps
But I kept on brushing my white feathered wings
Brushing my wings,imagining the flight
Along with my ambitions I will ride
Why I kept on ignoring the ever nearing steps?
Those 'wicked wicked' threatening steps
Just when I curled and checked the tips once more
With pride I admired my wings of
hope
The evil penetrated in
And I felt myself crashing right to the floor
The blood oozing down from the rich white
I got killed before I ventured for the flight
The evil plucked my wings, no place to hide
I was a little bird before my first flight
YOU ARE READING
From My Eyes
PoetryA Collection Of Poems- How I see the world from my eyes. A delicate yet painful story of my life in several verses.
