Blood Red Tears
Bombs. Battles and all those wars, Started in the name of all that is Holy. As I leaf through the holy scriptures, I fail to catch, again and again, Your motives and twisted reasons. Blood stains. Ruined lives. The haunting tears of motherless children, As I stood in front of the God, I hear His tender voice, Peace is love, So where did you learn Blood is piety? Blood is blessed? Bombs, the finger painted art of death. Did blood taste good to your taste buds? Writer’s Ezine | Volume VI September 2014 Issue