It is a real fact, War is nothing but a foolish act. A bitter and waste of life war lays. That must say, war pays only grudge and strife. What a helplessness, all feel, what a dark day is seen when war monger ceases the green and flashes of green.
The wheel of it greets many smashes of peace. From day to night night to day it says , it writes broken hardheartedness much senselessness.
A sweet day in spring, so cool, so calm, and so bright, so soothing , so charming must die under the wheel of war.
Hoisting the bisexuality on a figurine, I crawl back to anxiety. The primitive instinct was taking over the stitches on a snake. What do you want from a moon for the drooling mouth of a seashell? Braiding the breasts against
The need of the hour is peace As the consequences of war are not like breeze Countries are grouping, so are the citizens Unity is strengthening, but, against other unions Deployment takes place to deplore another state The death of
At evenings, Sun puts off her light as usual and goes behind a curtain woven by sea, rock and trees, so to have a break. Meanwhile, those with black heads and scattered hair go to warm themselves at the ember