A Soldier's Soul

Oh how I long,

To sleep gleeful a night.

In the search of a song,

Which will kill my ceaseless fright.

Days bleed dry, evenings connive.

Neither the rhythm, nor the beats thrive.

Paralysed I lay in the limelight,

when the hefty words arrive.

Pouring in the silence of nights,

The echt battles, materialise.

-Aman Batra

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