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The War

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Momentary peace is a thing,
Lifetime of peace who has ever gotten?
And there exist people who haven't witnessed a single spring,
The fruits they've reaped off life are all rotten.

Time lingers on, it takes small sluggish steps,
While the war seems to last for an eternity.
And though the mind's tired and body's started to sweat,
There seems no concrete vision, no certainty.

Innumerable wars we fight,
To add colour to this life we get.
And eventually there's a colourless sight,
With a couple of eyes, tired and wet.

They say, 'Life is beautiful',
That it's vivid colours come from the beholder's eyes.
But have warriors ever had moments handful,
To escape the pains, laments and cries?

How, I know not, 
We go about, fighting each day.
When there's a whole lot,
Of things we've got to say.

That's what life is- a huge battlefield,
Some win, while others die fighting.
The war goes on, regardless of what we yield,
The chaos everlasting and the entropy ever-rising.

war poetryInner Strugglelosseswinswarriorsbattlefieldlife and deathpath of lifeeverlastingentropy

◄ A tryst with self

In the world of her ►


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