Actions translates our souls.
Dye your actions with,
the colors of your soul,
not your age!
I recently read a post on Twitter. Which made me think and write that:
Nowadays we have stopped asking questions to people surrounding us whether for all day or for just a short while, maybe with the fear of being titled as stupid or foolish.
But that’s not how humans live! We are free to think, we are free to share the thoughts with almost anyone!.
Why have we become such introverts who are YOUNG, WILD & FREE on the social media life but at the same time ill-humored persons in real life; by keeping all the jokes, sanity and even ordinary thoughts to ourselves.
I think we should obliterate that Mysteriousness (to some extent) which has made a little space within us. Which is creating a fictional corner, a very secretive corner; sometimes even unknown to us.
We are happy with just a single menacing device, ignoring the people who are there for us at the present and we are talking about our bad day to the ones living far away from us. Yes! tweets are a fun to read things, but at the same time objectionable. Man! why are you telling this to us? what’s the purpose, in short, you’re LAME!
I think we must stop doing this!
Live with the ones who are living with you.
Make a thriving atmosphere at your home, by doing those creepy shits we do on social media.
Make the Real Life a Blockbuster video of your own!
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A poem written by my Late friend Sumbal jan on Peshawar Massacre 16 dec 2014 😦
“Withering Petals Of the Flowers “
Life was full of elation with boundless happiness;
Life was full of hopes with the brightest smiles and shinning eyes
Life was full of everlasting dreams with vast ambitions
Than most evil of the luck happened one day
Those Brightest smiles converted into helpless cries
Those shinning eyes were pulled out viciously
The feet which walked to school were pierced through bullets
The hearts full of ambitions were devastated into pieces
The bodies were dragged through every inch of the way
Showers were taken with the blood of the blooming flowers
While the hair brushed with immense love of the mothers were pulled out
The talented heads kissed by the dreaming mothers were cut off pitilessly
Every single petal of the blooming flower was torn apart
Were torn apart by the piercing nails in the bombs
The sparkling garden has been washed by the bloody rain
Mothers ran through every inch of the way
Ran through every inch of the way with naked heads and barefooted
Running around with flooded eyes and a begging cry
Even the un blossomed flowers were slaughtered to death
Hopeful flowers reacting in defense were shot in both the eyes to death
Every inch of the way was flooded with the nectar of blooming flowers
The hope of the mothers have been taken away
They will setup the lunch boxes but for whom?
They will brush the lovely hair but whose?
They will wash clothes but for whom?
They will cook tasty dishes but for whom?
They will wait in evening but for whom?
They will panic but for whom?
Whose little bundle of wishes will they fulfill now?
Whose little innocent questions will they answer now?
Whose talented head will they pat and kiss on now?
Whose jokes and little conversations will they laugh upon now?
Oceans have been flooded with every single drop of this blood
These drops will flow forever and EVER now
These petals will stay in our books forever
This blood will flow within us forever
This brutality has to end !
The revenge will be taken
SOON ………REAL SOON..
Author: Sumbal Jan