Cement floor with a drop of blood.Background

Flames dancing to the rhythm of the beating heart

A ground stained a deep red of the inhuman’s wine

A withered child lay limp, broken and breathless beside.

The trees were charred to ground

The homes once bathed in laughs echoed cries

The old man watched all and let out a mere sigh.

There was a pull to the edge of his tattered blistered shirt

A dying man asked for water for a throat that was parched

A tug that freed him of his human insides, he laughed.

Water down your throat can’t treat your burns

No medicine can ever fill those bullet wounds you endure

Die, oh you, die you must

For you don’t know the envy I have within

Death be the solace than this disgraceful life

Die in peace the thirst of thy soul be quenched.

Dragging a three year old little limp doll behind

Into the burning pyre of sanity he piled another flesh pile

That scent of burning flesh scarred forever his mind.

Walking back through aisles of the dead

Leaving behind a sane mind and the little humanity he had

A stain of that blood soaked soil was all that remained of man.

About the author

Anan Ashraf

Anan Ashraf

Anan Ashraf is an intern at TheWOOMag and is pursuing Journalism and Mass Communication at English and Foreign Languages University.

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