It was late night, if I am not wrong,
The warmth and comfort of the blanket
Let me forget all the pain I had.
I was having sweet dream with a melodious song.
It was the late night, yes I am sure,
Then I heard a child, crying in heavy pain.
I saw his bloody hand over my blanket
His body was wounded by bullet-rain.
It was the late night, I confirm,
I was struck in a building, unable to run,
Bombs were fallen over me, I saw
I was crying in front of a machine gun.
It was the last night, oh God!
I could not sleep again,
I see pool of blood around me,
Somebody is crying inside my brain.
Published in The Companion (December, 2016)
The Pacifist 