Written by Smriti Pandey
As the sun rises, so does the terror again, mocking over the existence of life, mourning the shadow of death, and highlighting the agony of the remain.
Burdened with loads of protest unheard, we outcry the grievances unspoken. Hanging around the verdict, with a destiny surrendered.
Where the world craves success and power, all Kabul wants is free reign; humans favouring humanity and the almighty to fortify the spirit of doom.
Life is gloomy and enervated here, and we are hunting for habitation. Not knowing which path to take, our doomsday seems to appear.
In the awakening of feminism, women cry out for basic human rights. The rain cries of blood with hostility on the bodies of men who dare to speak.
We seem blind to our blindness, not knowing the saviour for our survival. When wisdom falls to ignorance, the souls beg for kindness.
The world sees us enduring in the absence of severity, not raising a bit of grumble. All their united efforts to trend peace counts for nothing when Kabul cries in silence.
