A glimpse of the firing gun firing itself;
A cut flesh in a body on a broken self.
Blood on the carpet have been speaking,
Memories that never happened you had.
You had been steamed and thrown away;
You would not win the hearts of the world!
Coz you Osama, you the name of terror!
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Comments about this poem (Oh! Osama by shivayadav yadav )
- In Living Memory (11-22-63), John F. McCullagh
- Music, Fatima Nusairat
- what swanky sap is this?, Mandolyn ...
- Natural, David Chap Bottoms
- I end poem, hasmukh amathalal
- here's my armadillo, now get me a pillow.., Mandolyn ...
- A, Vera Sidhwa
- With her ability, hasmukh amathalal
- Inhuman way, hasmukh amathalal
- THERE IS…, michael walkerjohn
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