Paper on bench, Student on bed
Paper on bench,student on bed.
The results declared, the student dead.
Mother dreamed him an apex seat.
But his blood has adorned street.
Working hard ,day and night.
Dreamed a lot ,but no eye sight.
Pellets have pierced his every part.
Habitual of facing heavy gun shot.
Treading on the heavy tear gasses.
Dreams were high,now into ashes.
Son is shot,and the parents heal.
The pain of Kashmir,do you feel.
Charging the youth,like pellet scars.
Even minors are here,behind the bars.
India has changed this heaven into hell.
The truth speakers are, kept in a cell.
Blood tears rolling down,from the cheeks.
Whole body trembles,and the pen weeps.
Is there anyone to listen Kashmir.
Mazloom Kashmir, Mazloom KashmirS
*Poet is pursuing M.A Political science in convergent journalism and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org