Will the entire writers quote
What their conscience really vote?
Will the darkness of the night
Blind and shade their mind?
To think bright
Will their writing be biased?
Won't they use their unique talent
To jot truth, straight?

If the night could talk,
How painful the words be,
Persons with malignant cells,
"No turn back",
Cold sanatorium wall yells.
They gaze at the ticking clock,
No more friends flock,
But longing to live,
Beckon them.

With suppressed wails,
They feel their scalp,
Just few tuffs they have,
The skin lost lustre,
Bloated red with blemish,
Eyes opaque, glowless.
The flow of money,
Little does cure,
Only aches in ample,
Life a dreadful scramble.

If the night could talk,
About the night prayers chanted
So fervent;
By Evangelist, Priests and Pastors.
Vigil they are, whole night,
Fasting, sacrificing intending to
heal the sick, guide the weak,
Support the offender,
Reconcile the defendant.

Are all the soldiers of God
Really righteous not fraud?
Are the offerings received-
set right, none undeceived?
Is the white and saffron-
Cloak worn at day, not-
stained at night-
By blood of innocent,
Tears of humble?
Only the night has witnessed.

If the night could talk,
Its words would have choked,
To see the frail aged,
Sent off to be caged.
Once the parent,
Of precious fledglings,
Best they clothed,
Taught and fed.

Their protective clasped hands
On either side, led
Through stairs of life,
The symbol of pride,
Not giving pain,
Oh, all in vain!
Now in dark,
With strange folk.
They do not know that dome,
Long to be in their home.

Lullaby tune still rings,
Love they poured always brings-
Tears of loneliness,
Tears of longing, sleepless-
In the dark cold night.
The frozen heart of children,
Couldn't hear their cries.

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