The body of Islam is always suffering in pain
Allah tells us to endure and we will gain
Our tears falling endlessly red like the autumn rain
Do we deserve pain because we love?
What is his plan up above?
Yet, we are weak, like only one little white dove
A dove surrounded by black eyed cursed crows
From every direction the push and shove
So this bird, fighting undefeatable foes
Her tear flows
When one true Muslim dies, inside, a true Muslim knows
She tries to fly free into the cloudy blue sky
Crows won’t allow it. Trapped she lets out a cry, “why?!”
That is heard by the most high
If Islam was to be lost and to die
We will be in Jannah, with relief, and the eternal sigh