An incidence that has made make mark in our nation.
Painted on the nation’s wall
With the blood of innocent lives
A Draculian blood flow gated with spitted bones.
Though, this wasn’t his first
He has honours in his archive
‘UN house, police barracks…’
like a baby learning to walk
he has hone the skill o explosive painting
Silence would have dawn on us
If the skulls and the disjointed body’s picture
could escaped our sight
and too feeble to fight for words in our mouth
perhaps, take us out of spot light
but now, we_ a tourist centre for condolence
putting to sleep the serenity of peace
awakening the suspiciousness within us and the foreigner
questioning the more than half a century man on a cradle
if he could stop the milk?
And fight for his wall.
Though, the craft was well crafted
And artist not seems to be tired.
But he is indebted to memories
Of those, whose paints were used to paint the wall.
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