THE LOST HERO

Bugles blowing, Trumpets bellowing, Streamers,
  Flags of all hues- blue, green and red soaring
Marked the homecoming of the warriors
  Hailing them were patriotic crowds roaring.
Detached was his mind from all the mirth flowing
  Flags touched not his heart but tore it asunder-

Fluttering red hues brought back memories- Of
  Spluttering red gore- limbs chopped, heads severed.
All the blue in the world could not but erase
  The cyanotic blue of those strangled dead.
Green flags did no good to cleanse his mind- Of all
  The pale faces pleading mercy, then slaughtered.

Bugles and trumpets he cared not the least
  To him they all were sirens of the dead.
Ghouls and dead spirits devoured sleepless nights,
  Toasted his mirth and drank it to the lees.
Although the world sang glory to wars,
  And dubbed the slaughterers as Sons of Mars;
With ghastly sights of rotting flesh and hapless men
  Would the soldier's soul be damned forever.


~B.Arvind~

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