In shadows deep, where whispers weep,
A tale of sorrow lies,
Of hearts that bleed, in silent heed,
Beneath indifferent skies.
Where children cry, as echoes die,
In streets of muted gray,
Their dreams are torn, by hate reborn,
And night consumes the day.
The color of skin, or faith within,
A mark, a scar, a sin,
In narrow minds, where justice blinds,
And love cannot begin.
They walk alone, with hearts of stone,
Through fields of shattered hope,
In every tear, in every fear,
They search for ways to cope.
The winds of hate, they devastate,
With fury and with force,
And souls once bright, now seek the light,
Along a darker course.
Yet in the night, a flicker bright,
Of courage, bold and true,
In unity, their strength will be,
A dawn of crimson hue.
For in their pain, they will remain,
Resilient, fierce, and strong,
And through the mire, they'll inspire,
A world where they belong.
So hear the plea, of those set free,
From chains of silent screams,
In justice found, on common ground,
We'll build their shattered dreams.
Thingkho Le Malcha (TLM) is a traditional method of communication used to send out messages across the Kuki hills during the Anglo-Kuki War,1917-1919... more
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