He

Heroically he died, with no pain,

When his mother was cooking his favorite,

Retired father waiting him for the chat,

And his beloved was lost in his thoughts,

It was then, when city was drenched in the rain,

Of revolution, resolution and insurgency;

He, one who wrote the impeccable stories,

Of his father, mother and lover,

He, who refracted his thoughts,

Through the faces of thousands;

He, who build the army,

Of Words and marched against

All the odds of the country,

Is just hit by a bullet,

A bullet of hate,

A bullet of cynicism,

A bullet of iniquity,

Just wait, No, It’s…

A bullet of change,

A bullet of hope,

A bullet that lit,

Light in the souls,

Dismantling all the fouls;

He, who separated umbra of hatred,

Casted on his land, just by his voice,

Slowly and gently falls on the ground…….

As the bullet goes inside him,

That ectomorph rises up,

With a smile on his face,

Behold, he is rising, surprising,

Seeing the change he brought,

His essence, his beliefs out in hearts,

Of millions, of thousands, who call him son, brother, lover and a friend.

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