when the barrels of the guns
you can not block or shut
when revolution becomes a way of earning
when freedom is a great joke
when you are as helpless as flowers
with what all you see and smell
the bastards they rape a mother
and a daughter
and there corpses like winter dew
in the yellow mustard field.
Another young girl
strangled to death in the field
the field that is still wet with blood
that drips from phrase like 'counter insurgency'
that hand was a lover's hand
who was also a father's hand
without her knowledge.
And here comes a hero
who trade children from the land of corruption
who are abandoned from education
and he offered them molestation
sending twenty of them away in chennai
whom to blame for such shame, Heroes, you bastard?