#Cyra the poet.
#Dripping pen.
Where will we run to
yet our mother is suffering
all our generation is affected
we gather daily to visit
its no more now.
poor us
we got nowhere to secure
our dying relatives ,friends
families ,our surviving society
we got nowhere .
our brothers and sister
mothers and father’s
both skilled ,non skilled
our professional doctors
all are dying mercilessly
storms of no mercy
are sweeping without left
smokes of Cry’s
yet no one to wipe .
we are tired of fetching
we are tired of isolations
we have no more pure air .
our matches are fed up
ooh mother land.
now and then
every hour every minute
our eyes have even dried
tears of mercy to no mercy
I think the help is withdrawn .
rich and poor
health and unhealthy
big and small
all are crying for your help
yet your own can’t cater .
poor us death is cruel.
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