ink

Is it the ink or the blood?
Or the amount of tears shed ?
No, it is the blood
Which shed and formed flood .
This weather is cozy and shady
Resembling the hearts of woody
Is this my groan or the melody
That takes me back to the tragedy
Now this book of history
I read that heart wrenching story
And I feel so gloomy and sorry
That I can only sit and worry
The book explains what is sovereignty
With utmost care and dignity
It was an unexpected calamity
But nature was quiet ,so was the city.
The blood sucking hungry raccoons
Wandered everywhere like morons
They gave guns to kids instead of crayons
They shattered everyone, were they insane ?
The wide rapid movements
Of this mass on the pavements
High bold voices of locals and merchants
With great bonds and commitments.
Their brother was in a trap
They rushed before his gasp
With a unity to grasp
Everyone arose with a clap
They not only saved him
But the country which was with them
Only with the unity which is never going to dim
And the constant urge for freedom .
Today this ishistory
The liquid fluid ink with lots of mystery
Still remembered by many and they do cry
With absolute pleasure of victory.
The history never fades
It lives longer than decades
Some wrote poems and ballads
They won, and threw away the placards.
They hoisted the flag of triumph and victory
They hoisted the flag of triumph and victory
©thahdi