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  • abhisheksati 16w


    I've come from dusty Warfield,
    Who once protected nation as a shield.
    Shield,who has seen scorching summers and shivering winters,
    Away from home,leading the profound hunters.
    My love for motherland,selfless and immortal,
    Subduing the wounds and stabs so fatal.
    Wrapped in the tricolour,I reached my home,
    Their happy and joyful life got destroyed by this storm.
    I had promised them gifts,sweets and long vacation,
    But all I gave were tears,grief and my death compensation.
    I know I'll be soon forgotten by world in coming days,
    And colourless holi and dark Diwali is what they will face.
    But all I remember now are my comrades as they said,
    That a soldier is either good or dead!!

  • abhisheksati 17w


    Her little son lying in bed , battling the life;
    She was holding her breath,praying him to revive
    But the virus had already taken him far away,
    Her loss was immense,very hard to repay.
    She was told that he can't be saved,
    The sky fell on her,as her prince breaved.
    Her desire to hug her love,a one last time
    But her maternal love,subdued by fate and regime.
    His body cold and numb,and his soul demean
    But no one came forward,as the threat was unseen.
    She wailed and cried,but it mattered to none,
    As world don't pray the dawning sun,but the rising one.
    While things falling apart,and world saying alas,
    She walked up,and picked him like a shattered glass.
    In another life,it would have been a normal day,
    And there she was putting flowers on a tiny grave.