The Bait

A part of the crowd

They say it’s too proud

What they say is loud

Eyes weeping like a cloud

.

Whole the being is crushed

Condolences are mushed

Their words may be hushed

The ears feel them rushed

.

Peace will be its mate

Better soon than late

This storm will be its fate

Didn’t wanna be it’s bait

(Abeerah Biaji Mehreen)

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