Why faith, must bleed, until, it’s spent
In fear’s conquest, to, salvage pride
Of a state, whose, ethnic sacrament
Is the politics, of, getting glorified!

We were, two brothers, until, our regimes
Invented, our reasons, to hate
Our only, means, to redeem, our dreams
Is the, political bloodbath, they create!

“What’s war, pain, death, …?” don’t ask, brinkmen
But those, who lost, their fathers, and sons
Vain martyrs, who fell, shouting “… Amen!”
Baring, dread’s, darkest dimensions!

Lest, blood baptize, funeral of fear
Spare bull’s, last breath, martyr, matador
For love, to live, hate’s cross, we bear
Why Peace, Be Aftermath, Of War!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra