Judgement Day
soul of shadows have
white colour today.
To hide the hidden cries-
of shadeless.
Now, blood will flaw-
bellow the beautiful valleys.
To him,
to eat flesh from died.
Here, the the sticks
of black hands
are horrible than the guns,
and no untouchablity-
to white trishools.
Here, increasing
the tones of red.
Instead of to rise
three feet up-
sun is burning
on their stomach.
If today the marbiles
are in colour of blood,
dear poet,
you can die now.
Don't wait more.
Never, that day 'll come.
poem by Muhammad Mirash
Added by Poetry Lover
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