Are we born to mourn and mourn?
We are also humans but ripped and torn.
We also had a dream but all burnt,
Nobody, touch our nights, with words soft.
We have lamented and laments stronger.
Always dry autumns, longer and longer.
Never saw the tender spring,
Never alter the life's wing.
We are eternal persons in exile,
Our fate was written in a darker file.
Always wear the dark shroud,
Endless wait to burn in fire loud.
Shedding tears for the land in flames,
Screams of my people, with no blame.
Nobody remembers their names and count,
Minister dance, soaked in blood, mount.
Pages of a callous constitution,
Increase the pain and lamentation.
Should we ask the Muslims to tell our sins?
7, 7, 7 deadly sins, born as Hindus woes begin.
Not treated as Bahujans or Harijans,
Peace loving Pundits is the biggest treason.
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