Would a, sniper mind, to ever find
His bullet rent, whose throbbing heart
“Was a martyr he!” never crossed my mind
Every warrior, ain’t a, Bonaparte!
Struck me, that day, sadist’s instinct!
To watch, for once, my trophy’s face
A lad, lay there, in a, barn’s precinct
With his, nation’s pride, and a, Martyr’s grace!
His heart, had bled, to the, very last bead
Wow! The shot, was clean, beyond a doubt
But his, parting smile, left a war, parodied –
“Is a, martyr’s tomb, his last redoubt”!
A man, was he, like you, and me
Albeit, an enemy’s, metaphor
In the throes, of life, death’s rhapsody
That Soldier, I Killed, In The War!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra