Some little birds

Some little birds,

Living in the fake world,

Shining under the sun,

By the rays of prejudices,

Enjoying the illusion of freedom,

Blinded by faiths,

Slaves of prides,

These little birds,

Living in the small rooms,

Strong small rooms,

Made up of bricks of egos,

Without any windows,

On the big beautiful tree,

On the branches of beliefs,

When wind flows,

Branches makes noise,

With screams of prides,

These little birds,

All going to die,

Just because of their own lies. 

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