The barren land

The dry, red eye
Of the child soldier
Has no more tears.
All the tears he had
Were shed quietly
In the shadows
Long ago.
The eye can hold
Only a few drops
Of pain,
Or love.
This land
Was never so barren before.
History will not repeat itself
Into another cycle
Of love and hate;
There are no tears left here,
To rejuvenate the soil
Or its people.

About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

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