We write our voices in poetry
Submission email: [email protected]
#StopBalochGenocid
#Balochistan
#StopBalochGenocid
#Balochistan
t.me/chamrokmedia...
t.me/chamrokmedia...
The night is deep, the wind is still,
Yet shadows creep beyond my sill.
Footsteps echo down the street,
Like distant drums, a marching beat.
Four were taken, none to fight
Snatched away in dead of night
I ran, I hid, yet here I stay
Awaiting dawn or fate’s dark play
The night is deep, the wind is still,
Yet shadows creep beyond my sill.
Footsteps echo down the street,
Like distant drums, a marching beat.
Four were taken, none to fight
Snatched away in dead of night
I ran, I hid, yet here I stay
Awaiting dawn or fate’s dark play
They came at night, no words, no sound,
Took my brother, nowhere found.
In whispers dark, his name still flows,
Where he is, nobody knows.
Mother wept till tears ran dry,
Called his name beneath the sky.
Her heart grew weak, her hope turned grey,
And in her sorrow, she slipped away.
They came at night, no words, no sound,
Took my brother, nowhere found.
In whispers dark, his name still flows,
Where he is, nobody knows.
Mother wept till tears ran dry,
Called his name beneath the sky.
Her heart grew weak, her hope turned grey,
And in her sorrow, she slipped away.
In the land where silence breathes,
Where shadows move, and truth deceives,
She stands—a flame against the night,
A beacon bold, a fearless light.
In the land where silence breathes,
Where shadows move, and truth deceives,
She stands—a flame against the night,
A beacon bold, a fearless light.