L.O.C (LINE OF COURAGE)

While reading the newsletters, I’m not laughing,

Because when it gets tense, i know what might happen,

Going through every word freezes my bones,

As the stories about the people who never came back home.

Little i knew, about those braves so far,

Who risked their lives, beyond that par,

The only colour they could see was red,

Splashing out of the wounds of the dead.

With each drop of blood that touched the soil,

Which replaced the sweats of toil,

They said they were not scared of the enemies,

As much as they feared watching burning skies.

Picking up pieces of flesh in their own hometown,

By the time the daylight seemed to drown,

And as the night approached much more closer,

They all walked in band like brothers.

Echoes of bullets firing was the only thing they heard,

A slight hope of silence came but disappeared,

Terrified every moment as it got longer,

Longing for the war to end sooner.

Finally, the day of liberation arrived,

Moments of joy upon the faces of who survived,

And after such long break of happiness from which they were kept away,

Respect is the only thing they want, they say.