What breed, of blood-bargain, is war
Waged on, until, last drop, is spilled
When fear, defines, faith’s metaphor
Whilst, a brother revels, a brother killed!
Who massacres more; gains, the upper hand;
Dictates, the terms of, the Peace-Treaty
Seems a promise, penned in, blood o’er sand
Like, pity’s, pride’s, prejudiced graffiti!
Truces, alas, are meant, to be rent
By bullets, triggered by, vengeance
Present is, sacrament of, spent resentment
Is, past’s pittance, our existence!
As long as ‘martyrs’, farm fear, with gore
Will never, end this, ‘Machismo’s Disease’
Many ages, have bled, may bleed, many more
Lest War Be, The Only, Price Of Peace!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra