I don't want to hear that sound travelling from the distant horizon.
Over conservative; that I don't even know what had happen.
Am I going to take part of it or just stay there where I am being haunted
By inevitable cryings.
Lying on a devenport with lots of shattered dreams.
I am affraid to be there yet ashame to be here.
I had been there but turn back soon because I am affraid of the sound
Created by that machines.
With all those funeral sounds they came out to save their mother land;
But misguided by many lout,optimistic and zombie kind of person.
Several ran away ,few hide but some were made the target.
Death was the consequences.
Chaos and anarchy was on everybodies twisted mind.
Those precious days was everybodies nightmare.
Clothes stained with blood was the last dress they ever enjoyed.
Days becomes night and night were being lid up by wooden lights.
Pure happiness was there when they were awarded as the "MARTYRS"
So at last the sound became a music filled with pleasure,joy and happiness.
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