Death-Making Poem by Rafik Romdhani

Again terror's charging with blood its batteries
For fiends to leave bitterness on mouths agape
Filthy play with bombs, tombs and morbidities
A sunless sunday whines -Sorrow in full shape

Eight death-makings and many more ago Alas!
Ate big parts of peace 'n now wanting the rest
Like Dark's castaways crazy enough totrespass
A People's Reason and destroy freedom's nest

Ebbs and flows of suspirations to the unknown
Twelve million hearts or so rockingpain to bed
Still hope though old clouds love us to moan
Still light and auroral views after veins 've bled

Were it not for peace, you hands of cowardice,
You couldn't come out from beneath your rock
And dare test your dye on Guardians of Peace
Nor could you like bats procreate then flock!