Deafening explosions,
one after another,
replicating a chain
of Big-Bangs,
body parts strewn all-around
blood-spilt and splashed
all around,
like red-flowers,
maimed lives thrown around
all writhing in pain
fighting for life,
wailing dear-ones all around,
parents, siblings, children,
all around,
beating chests,
the heap of life-less
bodies,
with the blood-thirsty
demons dancing over them
raising hands,
displaying victory signs,
abound all around,
each day
followed by roars of
laughter.
No doves, only hawks
seen flying all around.
Gods are on a pleasure trip.
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