Tuesday, 9 February 2016

Soldiers by fate

They're soldiers
Everyday they must have felt
The building above creaking.

They were clerks
Swallowing the little pride,
They must have worked.

They were laborers
Eating their own sweat and blood,
Waiting for that extra money.

They were humans
Someone's mother, someone's father,
As death came down crushing.

They were lives
Snuffed out by apathy
Bricks and mortar didn't murder.

They're killed everyday
By you and me who swallow
Pride and respect.

Their deaths hang at the doors
Of the high and mighty who sit
In half a lakh rupee executive chairs.

Their souls cry out
That never reaches those
Cloaked in authority.

To those in the High Castles-
Wait, your time will come someday
Mortar smothering your high walls
Bricks crushing your conscience.

They're soldiers unsung,
They're murdered in cold blood
As you and I sit silent, in a wilting grave.

Dedicated to the 5 people- 2 railway staff and 3 outsiders killed, as Hubli parcel office came tumbling down which was dilapidated and 'unfit' for human use.

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