I am walking through a mob of people.
Some faces are familiar while a majority are strangers.
Different bodies with different dresses, but death is common.
I look at them but my eyes fall down.
I see the murderous eyes staring at me.
Everyone is at fight.
Some are tearing the clothes of others while many are sewing the bodies.
A line of people is waiting for water, but the taps are running blood.
The blood is coming from an innocent land.
Now the fight has begun who will take more blood.
But nobody cares about whose blood this is.
The owner of the blood is a living-dead body whose blood is afresh always.
The sycophants need blood for sampling to perpetuate the genocide.
In the meantime, the red rain has begun to fall.
All the people are running here and there with their hands smeared with innocent blood.
The owner is calling for his blood.
But I am surprised to know that the living-dead is me.
I can’t believe that I am both living and dying.
Ah, I understand that I belong to the innocent land,
Where the living-dead are both alive and dead.
The sniffing dogs are on the prowl and I have to hide.
In the nearby cave, some whisperings are going on.
Let me call them.
Oh! They are my killers.
Where to find shelter now?
Let me have my blood back.