A poem dedicated to all those little children who were brutally killed in the Peshawar attack
Mothers cried in sadness.
What is more sad, however,
Is that Sadness itself cried for
the innocent little Roses bathed in Red fragrance,
It cried watching them die,
As happiness fled away.
Gatherings raised to pick them up
Dressed in a uniform of glory,
Leaving with questions in the flowery.
Leaving with jolt, wondering what was their fault.
Being missed by the advice,
Flowers began to rest in paradise.
From the cradle to the grave,
Children fought like the brave
The tyrants overwhelmed humanity
And our little soldiers scuffled gallantly,
” You were trampled by sorrows
But, you are our eternal heroes.”
Parents were crushed with grief
May God give them a steady relief.
Papers were bathed with red ink
The memories on blood will never sink.
Written by Zaid bin Farooq