The victims of the war,
I’m heartbroken to see that people choose religion over people and superstitions over humanity.
The hunger for power have swallowed your innocent lives.
Just like you, I wonder what was your fault but sadly I found none.
The survivors of war,
You no longer know your origin, you do not know where your home is.
Only fear creeps in the back of your head — fear of not waking up the next day
or fear of waking up in a pool full of blood and dead.
The women whose body and soul were ripped by the humans who are not-at-all- human,
I don’t think there’s even a single reason, which could justify the horrifying act ( I am sorry to even trying to think of one).
The damage done to your soul and dignity is unrectifiable.
I am sorry the lengths of your dress; the time of your outings and all pity matters out did your pain in all the discussion.
The ones below poverty line,
You might eat just once in a day, but your children smile everyday.
You feel blessed on the nights when you do not sleep with an empty stomach,
whereas the ones above line throw what they just don’t like and seems like they have forgotten how to smile.