By Sheikh Arshid Ahmad
Life crippled by breakdown
No one is to craft it
Blood oozed out from bullet holes
No one is to block it
Tears trickled down to cheeks
No one is to wipe it
Clothes torn by traction
No one is to tailor them
Throat got dried with
No one is to water it
Window panes broke into pieces
No one is to replace them
Doors and windows kept open
No one is to close them
Funeral stood up in lines
No one is to join in
Moozin called in masjid
No one is to answer him
Mother cried for missing son
No one is to help her
Family waited for son
No one trusts some came bullet ridden
Daughter went to school with wimple on head
No one is to cry wimple torn into pieces
Baby cried with swaying arms and swaying
No one is to open chest to nourish it
Have a thought some one is to change it
Author belongs to Kuchmulla village in Tral.
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