Unbroken, Unbent.

Photo by Max Kukurudziak on Unsplash

“Put these seeds in your pockets”, the woman said,

to the soldier — a stranger on her homeland,

“At least sunflowers will grow when you lay dead”.

Her heart blue, eyes red, yet resolute her stand.

With guns, bombs, and tanks, the tyrants invade

A people of peace; they bring a reign of pain.

War spares no one, it’s an evil trade,

Lives are taken, only suffering and despair remain.

The people of freedom, they’re heartbroken yet headstrong,

You will see no tears, just sheer will, blood and sweat.

Unbroken, unbent; they fight to right this wrong,

Tyrants, beware! You chase power; In your arrogance you forget.

Lone and bare, even Ozymandias was left in ruins,

What chance do you have? He was the King of Kings.

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Yashvardhan Jain

Yashvardhan Jain

Polished essays and unpolished thoughts | Find my newsletter: www.subtledigressions.com