Lest, façades of glory, of gore, fall
To bare, to bone, battle’s, raw nerve
Graffitis of fear, left on, faith’s wall
Indelible scars, on, warriors’ verve!

All shroud, same sham, guises galore
Beyond, war’s truth, martyrdom’s myth
Is man’s, machismo’s, metaphor
Built with blood, and pain, his hate’s megalith!

The mother, who, cradled in moon
The beauty, of her, sweetheart son
Would alas, see her, oeuvre strewn
Lost, in dust, of war’s, oblivion!

Men of honor, made, caricatures
Like the bull, lost to, mean matador
Written in, fear’s ink, faith’s conjectures
Those, Fractured Faces, Of The War!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra