Soul Poem by Alexander Romanov

This is the end, dear mother,
On our knees we sway,
Hearts exhausted, beating slow,
In our final truths we lay.

Bullets tear into our minds,
Weave nests soaked in red,
Mother, we were led astray,
Only stars remain overhead.

Victory's weight, a feeble grasp,
For the ease of goals achieved,
Always near to what we craved,
Yet our thirst was never relieved.

We're but few, a mere handful,
A halfpenny, a scanty sum,
Yet, mother, we possess the might
To explode the sun, to overcome.

Yearned for something beyond this,
Life after a hushed demise,
Evil took root deep within,
In hearts, now stone, it lies.

We fought fiercely, dear mother,
Preserving souls untamed,
Stubbornly we endured the night,
Emerging stronger, unafraid.

Oh, the longing to live, dear mother,
For it comes but once, they say,
Yet, it's too soon for me, too raw,
Not as brave, I must convey.

But this marks the end, dear mother,
On our knees we sway,
Hearts beat on, with iron will,
In their final truths, they weigh.

Bullets tear into our minds,
Weave nests soaked in red,
Mother, we were led astray,
Only stars remain overhead.