Blood is still oozing out from the deep slit…
A sheaved hand,
Few gapping mouth,
There was a blast here…
...
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YOU HAVE WOVEN A REAL PICTURE, IN YOUR POEM IT'S FULL OF TEXTURE. YOU, IN YOUR POEM, SPOT THE BLOOD, WITH BLOOD, TERRORISTS CREATE FLOOD. OUR LIFE IS STAINED WITH TURMOIL, WE SHOULD MAKE THE TERRORIST'S ATTEMPT FOIL. LIFE BECOMES IMMORTAL HONOURABLY, WE REMRMBER OUR SOLDIER POSTHUMOUSLY. YOUR POEM SHOWS A KIND OF DIGNITY, I PRAISE YOUR QUALITY.
YOU HAVE WOVEN A REAL PICTURE, IN YOUR POEM IT'S FULL OF TEXTURE. YOU, IN YOUR POEM, SPOT THE BLOOD, WITH BLOOD, TERRORISTS CREATE FLOOD. OUR LIFE IS STAINED WITH TURMOIL, WE SHOULD MAKE THE TERRORIST'S ATTEMPT FOIL. LIFE BECOMES IMMORTAL HONOURABLY, WE REMRMBER OUR SOLDIER POSTHUMOUSLY. YOUR POEM SHOWS A KIND OF DIGNITY, I PRAISE YOUR QUALITY.