Skinned, Flesh tears from your bones
Dangling from trees, like bananas
Rotten smell of cooked blood
Persuading the earth
Bullets like birds always in the sky
Until the eagle drops, and away we say goodbye
Decorated Brigdes of Exile
Decorated with men and women,
For the faults they have done,
The people are lost,
no where to be found,
those peacful villagers turned to blood hounds
The grass has bleaked from all the shame,
The gardens are no longer green
Land has sucked in all the pain
Dried to crust the land of dean
Fighting over the same religious will
belligerents will always be eternal
The peaceful tears we shed for Them
will spring the grass and nurture the stems
Hasneen Jalil
Author notes
About the war in Iraq, and how terrorist are kiling the local iraqis
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