At light they scorch,
As they dwell in the sun,
With forests plantless and lands soilless,
To them peace is a stranger,
That has turned his back away from them,
Not because they picked,
It's of need to be,
To keep me and you awake.
Flaccid is the way they walk,
To conceal their vicinity on the planet,
Their sweer boots crush the rocks,
As they walk around with apparels of bullets,
Heavily ladened on the waist,
With them lies the breath.
At night they sleep with eyes agape,
As they hold their hearts in hands,
With trust placed in the being above,
To beshield them through the chill and detriment,
That may await them in a blink.
In a tick tock tick,
A clock ticks and stops,
As a bang engulfs the ears,
Smoke and dust feel the sky,
As shrill cries escape through the smoke.
The unanticipated has knocked on them.
We see the recounts and melt,
As we taste the fall of corner stones.
Behind we remain in a cloudy path,
With still along way to go,
One loud cry and all is gone,
As heroes and widows are born.
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