“Five years, Oh! So long, for a war to live
Alas! Too few, for me to die
Who suckled on war, would he forget and forgive!
Was I Omran, meant to be, born blood-shy!

When heavens fire hell, on mortal angels
And war wails a warble, of man’s lost soul
Entombed in rubbles, where I played pebbles
Who ravished, my land, my sky, who stole!

Feast your eyes, on my face
Truest, blood moon prophecy
A childhood lost, without a trace
A dream born, with a bloody legacy

Where once stood, my school, my home
Go on blood games, linger tombs, of haunting sigh!
Where death’s the life’s solace, and life, a deadly syndrome
I’m a grown man alas! No more blood-shy!”

© 2016 Vikas Chandra