The face, pale and exhausted,
Embellished with the mask of burden,
Miseries coated, swelled up with anxiety,
Seems grave, sluggish and quiet,
But is still up to fight.
Weaponed arms, confident mind and a bleeding soul,
Pain, grief intolerable down the cheeks roll,
A new battle to confront in each step,
Trying to conquer till the last breath.
Fatigued muscles, rejuvenated to fight,
Alertness in alarming, black fearful nights,
Marching ahead in dark bearing the torchlight,
Stacks of serpentine works scheduled tight.
Planned and programmed turmoil, fully prepared to vanquish, although,
Pondering about enemies here and there,
Excruciating back attack threats,
Prevails on the psyche as the worst perception ever.
Ailing mother on one side, the father old, senile and shattered,
Negligence seems genuine, consoling each other,
He is on, sweating, grinding and slaving,
Waiting for wife with watery eyes,
The child is unhappy with plenty of toys.
Heal wounds on hearts of theirs, persistent scars,
Proudly proclaim in mood melancholic,
He is a survivor!
Soldier not beleaguered, mentally yet, physically though,
Jovial, energized and enthusiastic for his next go,
In this havoc, scrimmaging hard,
Struggling for existence every moment,
Stuffed with halved sorrows and doubled contentment!
Skirmishing for life, brawling for vitality,
Aware of liabilities,
Compromises under compulsion,
Nor is he a coward, neither an invertebrate,
He is who, in gloom finds beauty,
He is a Warrior and a Warrior is never off duty!
It feels relaxing when your pen bleeds your emotions over papers and everything stuffed within is just automatically jotted down and need of a person to express yourself gets reduced.