To minorities in worldwide sense
But to the proliferated maimed
It's more like 70 counting still
And they are now ever fighting
With tagged enemy of nemesis
Their own tormenting shadows
They are at war with conscience
To no end and without any sense
Promises that were once made
Guidelines to prophesied lands
From the chain of commands
Forces of ghouls on the prowl
A strayed on blemished tracks
Their compass without needle
Going for all the others throat
Slipping in by that killer ropes
To no extent and with no gains
Altruism fast departing the soils
These grounds no longer fertile
From much absorbing naive blood
The air emitting only foul smell
Stenches from soulless remains
In cities that were once adored
Rotting under sculptured ruins
Under hailstorm of aggressions
To no limit and without any gates
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