From small to big poets
They all perished
But still alive is the war
Irony of fate
Peace is loveable
But it never gives profit
As it does not sale
I am ready to die
And you can do whatever you like
As you have the might
But for God’s sake
Please do not use depleted uranium
Or the phosphorus, white
My weakness may be a sin
My logic may sting
As I am underdeveloped and poor
But where the fault lies
Of those children yet to come
That they have to born
With all sorts of malignant diseases and deformities
When they do not have faults of their own?
I am sick
Sick with those minds
Who shout from the top of the house
Humanism and humanity
But on the ground
Show vanity and pride
While use depleted uranium
And phosphorus, white.