In
the woods
Of
green and darkness
The
jungle routes
The
silence cry
The
stealers of souls
They
don't care of it all
They
just want their greed
Of
human suffering and money
The
echo rings
The
blushing of the leaves
Swaying
in different ways
By
the angry wind
The
carpet of dried leaves
Covering
the old graves
Of
the miserable souls
They
perished never reached home
The
echo on the border guards
The
security suppose to flourish
It
never happens during those years
Hear
no evil hear no sound
Now
the woods cry
The
death souls rise
The
reporters write
The
gruesome find
No comments:
Post a Comment