My death is an excuse,
Some sleepy sleeping people have to wake up.
Mother, do not think that the red will hang on you hanging on the hanging, you just see how many young people will bleed the cold by watching them hang on a hanging trap.
Even after my death, Iqbalab will speak every stroke of my blood's blood.
Inklab Zindabad ........ Shaheed-e-Azam Bhagat Singh
Something like that was a crazy thing like that of his story.
For the sake of the freedom of Mother India, Kurban is the one who has all his youth.
It was such an immortal sacrifice, something like that was his story.
Jai Hind
Shaheed-e-azam
Murari Lal
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 05/30/2019
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Poem topics: crazy, freedom, red, young, cold, excuse, sake, speak, india, youth, death, mother, people, story, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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