In fields of green, where life should bloom, A tragedy spun its woeful loom. A farmer's heart, in anger cold, Turned cruel hands on innocence bold. A baby camel, soft and meek, Wandered close, her future bleak. In search of food, her tender grace, Met wrath and pain in that cruel place. He tied her tight, with rope so cruel, A heartless act, a broken rule. With axe in hand, he swung so hard, A life was marred, a soul was scarred. The baby cried, in agony deep, Her eyes did plead, her wounds did weep. No help arrived, no soothing balm, In fields that should have brought her calm. Oh, tender heart, sweet camel dear, Your cries of pain, we deeply hear. A poet’s soul can feel your plight, In darkness deep, we seek the light. Forgive us, please, for those who harm, For hands that break instead of charm. Not all are cruel, not all are cold, Some hearts are pure, with love untold. Dear camel, lift your eyes to skies, For justice comes, where truth resides. On judgment day, the wrongs will...

When those people start causing us pain, whom we considered our sympathizers, then understand that one of our good deeds has been accepted.