Hate came for the Jews, with the rifle and grenade.
But why would have I put up, Any kind of aid?
For I am not a Jew.
Then the Indian partition, followed by red flood.
But why risk myself? We don‘t share same blood.
For who are they to me.
Banglas in seventy one,Combodians in seventy nine.
But why should I care ? Their pain is not mine.
For I live far away.
Pandits from the north,Tutsis in the west
The common afghans,or this Baloch kill fest.
Or whatever is happening, in the palestine,
For they are not my people,Why to whine?
All I know is when, that hate comes to my door
I will still be this, For I don‘t deal with gore.
When I will cry for help , None will be left for me.
One tiny piece of lead, and I too, will be free.