The city, after all, still breathes.

Before the twilight of dawn

Till the late hours of dusk

Terror reigns

On empty roads

And bruised souls

Of beleagured city,

The war torn Quetta.

The rebellious sky

And treacherous hills

Supress the cries

And silence the screams

A thousand deaths

To the lost city

A tale unheard

Burried too deep

And doomed to bleed.

Amid the turmoil

Of decade’s suffering

And inflicted mourning

Under the blanket of grief

And limitless pain

The city after all

Still breathes.

2 thoughts on “The city, after all, still breathes.”

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