Once a blushing celestial town,
Becks, mountains, up and down.
Angels appertain to reserve the seats,
Giggling, chanting on the feats.
Aura filled with the birds'peeps,
Meadows beaded with grazing sheeps.
Folks intonating the freedom strains,
Unfamiliar with upcoming pains.
Then there broke a war of freedom,
Carrying along terror and boredom.
All of the town begin to resound,
With awful mists 'nd thrashing sound.
The sound of shoting dead down,
Sound of tattered apparel and gown.
Of shrieking breaths under feet,
Of whingeing lambs' screeching bleat.
There egressed a torrent of cadavers,
A heap of guns and some ravers.
Arcades drenched in deep red,
Valleys smutted in tarnished lead.
Lust for valley's crown,
Turns it into a 'Bleeding Town'.
(M.K. Aassi)
12-06-2019
