The name of independence is written in the blood of martyrs,
Yet, secretly, snakes are hidden in the chest.
Those who have joined the processions, behind masks,
With their poison, the country is still dying.
Today, there are bloodstains on the green leaves,
In every flower, I see the share of deception.
-
Author:
Prasun Goswami (
Offline)
- Published: August 21st, 2025 11:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.