Question Mark

*Question Mark*

Roaming in the realms of reality unknown
Spooky souls spooked by human lives
Like weeds they see greed overgrown
Instead of garden just a vast grave survives
Screaming to warn; not shudder or scare
Shaking us to awaken from our sweaty slumbers
Nightmares hidden in plain sight somewhere
Devastation long stopped counting numbers
No valley can survive with blood soaked streams
No sun can rise behind ash, embers and smoke
No birds can dare sing amidst deafening screams
Can dead children understand adults’ joke?
What will be a country without any living soul
or a religion without its believers to embark?
We are just a tiny dot…or maybe a bullet hole
under the sharp sickle shaped question mark.

©2023 Taruchaya.