Preys of Predators

Upon the eyes, a polluted sea as a black sky.
The pigeons are flying somewhere.
Balmy blood spreads into their feeble minds,
And smoke traces dominate the silent valley.
The weather is not splendid,
And cold hearts can't move from the dark world.
The missiles come as if pearls fall,
And the world is expecting a bed of roses.
Lasses are wrapped in clothes,
And the rubicund garments are covered with blood.
They can’t defend against gruesome devils because
Their hearts are filled with kindness.