HORRENDOUS KILLINGS IN UP RIOTS

“Outside the mud baked hut,


The child sat, playing in the dust;


That is when calamity struck,


Hordes hit in blood thirsty lust,


The mother ran to snatch the child,


When a bullet struck her in the side;


As she fell writhing on the ground;


The child paused, looking around;


When a spear severed, slit it through,


And hot red blood gushed and flew,


As we of candle lights and marches,


Watched silently from our porches;


As if nothing we cared or ever knew”

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