THE ECHO

It is a piece of poetry

                  THE ECHO



The Centipede’s crawl on a naked body

Revibrating

The echo of a bemuddled world

That stood unperturbed

While the gangrene kept spreading

In a death race

That has kept a nation shackled



And the fervent gale

Kept whistling past our ears

The echo of a lost paradise

As it carries its potent message

That has held us down

Revibrating

From one mountain top to the other



And the strangled voice whimper

Forth proceeding

From the distillery of blood laid

Kept re-echoing

Of those that would not

In a heap of troubled souls

That has been held down

By the echo