Reminiscing fragments of reality,

scattered on the floor, 

Broken bones lay stagnant, 

hate coursing through your veins. 

Beg for tearing your soul,

with quivering hands, you cry. 

Pleading to escape your mind, 

you forget, you are not the victim.

You are just the repercussion;

of the soldiers at the battlefield.

You are the ground, painted with red,

littered with corpses of despair. 

You are the skin sealing the battle,

the monster, trapping your demons. 

I won’t give you my pity, 

won’t lament your grief for a moment. 

The soldiers in you, they fight to be heard

If you don’t let me clean the red,

the red will become you. 

These soldiers they fight with your hope, 

and while you cry over the blood, 

the demons spill some more. 

In agonizing pain, you will meet demise.

The blood from your hand,

touches the ground with grace. 

You can’t hope for victory then, 

for the blood would have seeped;

through your skin into the terrain.

No soul will glimpse at you,

like carcasses, they’ll trample on you too. 

But listen, oh wise man, 

listen to the soldiers in your heart. 

Camouflaged with hope, 

they fight for a light you don’t see yet. 

I understand your grim tale, 

your agony hurts me well, 

Your skin hides the story,

of a bloody forgotten Warfield. 

But don’t you assume, 

that we don’t see the seeping scars, 

bags under your eyes and marks on your hand, 

have shown what you hide. 

No smile on your face; I don’t pity you. 

I pity the one who took it away.

You do a fair job at hiding, 

but haven’t I said, 

no saving after it seeps into the ground. 

I don’t not pity you; your scars make me quiver;

from afar, I wonder,

how can one hide such a grim tale? 

But then I see the smile you share,

a sacrificing scapegoat, aren’t you? 

They are screaming for help, 

show them you care, 

soldiers of hope line your heart, 

and while you succumb to the demons, 

in agony, they die a forgotten battle. 

You didn’t share your smile, 

the soldiers at war, you let them down.

I show you of a bloody future, 

not yours but of the world without you,

your soldiers are fighting, 

a losing battle at your expense, 

you don’t even glance their way,

a slight smile is all they crave. 

The battles in your skin are known,

only to you in the night they show

from afar, we watch the tainted ground.

In silence, we leave you to your fate;

your sanity claws you down; we shudder insight.

It is not our battle to win, but yours instead

mend the soldiers on the ground, 

find your hope within.

Don’t surrender to the wicked men, 

they’ll brew a storm and leave, anyway. 

The soldiers at your heart, 

mend them with love instead. 

You have shared your smile

at the expense of sanity. 

You have hated the ones who guard your’ night.

Mend the soldiers on your ground, 

cover their red with a smile you show now.

Not a bliss for those around,

but the soldiers in war, muster fate now. 

I don’t not pity you; your scars;

they make me quiver. 

I remember the nights I almost lost;

not a fate I’d wish on my enemy even. 

We are strangers for all I know, 

but your smile is not for this world

they’ve tarnished you for eternity. 

Now, you don’t owe them a debt;

You don’t owe them a smile. 

A camouflaged soldier fights in you, 

They need your smile with the intensity of the sun.

Hand in hand, you’ll chase the wicked away.

The soldier in your heart will be at peace;

in the end, you’ll walk hand in hand, 

defeating the evil which threatened to swallow you whole. 


This blog page serves as a platform for the Editorial department of The Hindu Education Plus Club at VIT Vellore. We provide opportunities to budding authors across campus to hone their writing skills. We publish blogs four times a week, where writers can communicate their views on any topic of their choice with our readers.


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