Syria Poem by Shraman bajracharya

Syria,
LOOK! how your sons are acting
THey are desperately spreading a plague
in your frail heart.
Hatred scattered everywhere in your soil.
A rage for a absolute motherland..
Do they asked you a question that 'Are you happy? '
They had both created a mass of people
To tear you, wipe you, throw you away.
Your thousand sons are singing a songs to
turn you into graveyard.

Syria,
THe war had fiercely broken
There are guns, snipes, tanks and bombs
everywhere in your heart
Chidren are turing to rebellions
Carrying a self of mass destruction
Fightning for you.
But do they ever ask you' How you feel that? '

Syria,
Your loving hard working country men are bound
To leave you as you have no more beauty.
They have gone far away from you
and raised their tents
with minimal hope of life.
LOOK! Syria where are you now
Your intimate children are
playing in a small ground
near the boarder with gloomy light.

Sryia,
You need a help!
your's sons are in great dark illusion
The messenger's from sky are
sent but even they turn heedless
They walk away from you.
May be the obscurities lies deep in your deep soul.
They said, 'Syria! You are mission impossible.'

Syria,
Now what will you do.
Whom will call for?
Where will you go?
You are put in a unbroken chain
Panting like you have
no hope to live.

Syria,
What can we even do?
Except lying in a empty room
Weaving the thought of empathy
Seeing you crying aloud,
Seeking for better home.
Sorry! Syria,
We have become the object of scorn.