Throes Of Terrorism

Look at the faces of people around, pale and deeply distressed,
The story of terror can be read in the eyes indelibly impressed.
The lively din of streets is lost in the pall of gloomy lull,
Life has taken refuge in the safety of homes to avoid peril.

The moon is also pale and no more twinkling of stars even,
As if sad and helpless witnesses of atrocities from the heaven.
The crimson color of flowers is no more pleasing to behold,
It reminds of the pools of blood of innocent citizens killed.

The vibrancy and fervor of the city has lost to bloody violence,
Only time would be the best healer for the dreadful pestilence.
Daisies, daffodils or the primroses are still blooming as usual,
But nobody is able to praise their beauty in this time of trial.

by Diwakar Bhatt

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