My heart bleeds for thee, little cherubs of Peshawar
O little cherubs of Peshawar,
I am sorry for thee: thou departed from this world too soon,
To thy heavenly abode.
But I am content, for thou shalt at least be safe in heaven,
That is bereft of earthly demons.
I am sorry for thee, thou must have gone through immense pain,
And suffering at the hands of mindless beasts,
Who came to thy school on a bloody feast,
Inflicting gaping wounds on thy little, fragile bodies.
What was thy fault, thou must have wondered?
Thou were good at studies; thou wouldst do homework on time,
Thou were disciplined and punctual too,
Besides being messengers of peace.
Thou were no children of a lesser God,
Thou were endowed with eyes, hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions.
Thou wouldst feel pain when hurt, bleed when pricked,
And laugh when tickled.
But my little cherubs of Peshawar,
I am sorry for thee, thou were faced with,
A stony adversary, inhuman wretches,
Incapable of pity, void and empty,
From any dram of mercy.
I am sorry for thee,
For thou deserved nothing but peace and amity,
And a world where the kingdom of God prevailed, instead of Satan’s, alas.
Verily, I am sorry for us, for what’s this world without thy smiles, giggles, and chuckles?
What’s this world without thine innocence and truth?
Nothing, my angels, nothing.
It is barren without thee, devoid of its raison d’être,
Wherefore should it even exist now?
I for one do not feel like living in this brutal world anymore.
For my heart bleeds for thee, little cherubs of Peshawar.
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