Let me whisper a tale of 325 names.
Craved on tombstones yet it left us all pale.
Though digits to some maybe
to some it is about robbed souls.
It didn't take much time,5 minutes and they were hollows
'died for the good'was the epitaph they left behind
while their revenge and unspoken dreams were fated undone
Oh How inquiet i became by soothing words that praised them as brave
Burned my eyes those gleaming medals of theirs. It belied their joy the sadness they craved.
How sad that the answer eludes me still
they were called brave but we knew that is not how it seemed
How numb it made me feel the cruelty of war that became our norm.
I lampoon the forlon feeling as their trace was forever covered in soil-like womb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem