A Terrorist's Grief...

‘No more, enough is enough’,
in deep anguish a terrorist thought,
‘I can’t anymore carry this blot.
Men, it is said, are born
with silver spoons in their mouths,
and am I with a sword to be an uncouth?
Am I a coward, a reject or an odd man out?

My contribution is nil,
never did I carry a brick,
sowed nor harvested paddy or wheat,
a road I hardly built, though have destroyed many;
under the monsoon shower hand-in-hand
never I have walked with any,
though for ransom I have hijacked lovers,
killed men, created unfortunate widows and orphans.

But why do I commit such crime
without good reason and rhyme;
people remember in awe
names of those who fought
for peace and freedom and built nation.
Who will ever think of me
who spread fear, stole from each heart, joy and cheer?

'No more, no more,
enough is enough’,
in deep anguish and grief
the terrorist silently thought!