Ferocious hounds are to be found to roam about in streets in abundance
At ease and in bold with weapons in hold may attack you at any instance
A doctor and his son on the holi* day fun while playing cricket at roadside
By chance the ball happen to fall on the scooty of some rowdies on ride
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The brutes stopped the scooty, at a rage and booty snatched the bat And began to beat, randomly hit lashed with iron rods, knives and gat Rowdies continued beating, in un-methodical hitting till the agony was heard Kicked the victim's son, out of heroic fun and others, nobody was spared... terrible my dear poet. that you saw it. no law and order..... lack of all these........ we have become cruel and insensitve. hatred is poison. thank you for this poem. tony