Thou sits on the tomb of the fort,
A place thou has conquered with all lore,
Thou can soar high and transcend boundaries at will,
O! I salute thee for art know the body of religion.

For thou sit on a temple, mosque or church with no cares,
Cut thy wings, seek thy blood,
Yet, the agony never ceases of mine,
Thy brings the fake freedom of mine.

My heart cries, human kind in its venomous touch,
Thy never speak diplomacy nor care to know,
Thy concern is to eat and survive,
My heart could never relish life of thine,

Thou sit on the tomb of the fort,
A place thou has conquered with all lore.