Murder کے بول

Stabbing, strangling, shredding Burning, hanging Raping to death, crucifixion, bloodbath Piles of crippled bodies They all would tell their stories If they weren’t victims of murder Murder There is no doubt, some deserve it To be erased from this world But what about, all the innocents Who were just living their lives We all could be victims of murder Puddles of blood Cold flesh rots See the fear in their eyes Staring dead to the sky No more blood’s pumped through their veins In death their peace they shall regain Open your eyes