"Poetry came from the weak" said alpha
Mockery smile in silence the poets rested
She was loved maybe for kids to bear
We celebrate her like heavens festival
Any hand can bloody its path by knives
Only worthy and chosen ones hold the pens
But we are weak for her smiles , lusty for her happiness
Weak in tears , weak when she crumbles in darkness
If we fight wars the bloods will flood up the heavens
We pen verses that...