Breaking news doesn’t break hearts anymore
Eerie wind creeps into the room beating windows
Now all news is breaking news etherizing the world
But no news seems to break hearts of the half-dead
A stone facing heavy rainfalls copes with a cyclone
Eyries fall with trees encountering a reckless storm
When a two-year-old tries to awake his mother
Lying motionless only to merge bit by bit with mud
You can’t help weeping as it must be breaking news
Yet you watch as if a stone and pass by the child
Because hospitals are brimming with dying humans
Oxygen cylinders seem helpless before dead bodies
In a long melodrama puppets in masks are merely
Role-playing as ghosts gazing at the strange time
