On May the fourth, a day of dread,
Two souls were torn from light and led,
By mobs with cruelty in their wake,
Their dignity a prize to take.
In shadows deep, they walked in shame,
Their bodies bare, their hearts aflame,
A massacre in daylight's grace,
Their screams a haunting, hollow trace.
The nation's heart was stained with grief,
Leaders spoke, but none found relief,
Their words a veil, their promises thin,
While justice faltered deep within.
The scars they bear, unhealed, unbound,
The truth in whispers, lost, unfound,
For leaders swayed by their own might,
Downplayed the horror, shunned the light.
Narcissists who shield their own,
Rewarded those who caused the moan,
The pain remains, the cries unsung,
A story left, forever young.
In every shadow, in every tear,
The silence screams, the truth is clear,
For justice waits where hope is thin,
And scars persist where lies begin.
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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