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hear hear
the sirens blare
might be drones out
don’t roam about
stay at home, lock the doors
it’s our Brother again
with a grudge
and a death wish
let’s bury the hatchet, he says with a smile
five minutes later, launches a missile
says one, does another
such déjà vu, no shame ever
crippled by internal turmoil,
on borrowed money for the pain
still the ego, so much vain
to some deep wound he does refer
says we have his ‘Jugular’
next time he invites for a Bus visit
hope for no ‘Samjhauta’, nothing close to it
because Hijacked by the past is his mind
a body Reigned by Hate, to that he is blind
even a child knows –
Keep licking a wound, if you will
fester and ooze, it won’t heal
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