Painted Walls

The ancient doors display

The pride of unknowns in carving,

Resemblance of yester-decades

Pure and untainted in saving

Nobody utters a word

Not a breath about their belonging,

Preserved through the crucial days

Their scripts with a tiny spark burning

For whom were those carved stones preserved?

For what lesson were those saved scripts recovered?

History as doormats at the entrance

Impress the visitors with learning,

While the window frames spotted with blood

Are washed before the eyes notice mourning.

Painted walls with plastered wounds

Clarify the doubts of cheating,

While my brethren of pride and honour

Prepares his next debate on uniting.