(Before reading the poem… please read this…… This poem is written putting myself in the shoes of a photojournalist who is doing a coverage of an area where violence is prevalent… the houses are being put on fire and innocent people are being killed without any consideration… the area is a rural place and the people are negroid in origin)
Both lying cold on the muddy ground
Noises are such that they cannot be found
The little bald headed sitting beside
Lips thin, frailed body, eyes all dried
Hands and legs, bare and dark, lay still
But not cold as many had taken down the mill
Those dark brown eyes had nothing in them
No hope, no future, not even hunger for a stem
My eyes, through the lens, caught her there
Before the fire engulfed the sticky stare!
(Written by Pallavi Gupta)
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