Placed a stool

Under that fan.

At an enormous pace,

His dark mind ran.

Things were going well,

On the lines of his plan.

Didn’t cared, what would.

Didn’t bothered, what could.

As on the wooden stool,

With shaky legs he stood.

With a loop around his head.

Loop of death it was,

As it is said.

A leader once,

Was now misled.

His mind bewitched,

By the deathbed.

The following second,

Stool was kicked aside.

The loop did its work,

And the man died .

Too anxious of the future,

Too fearful of his fate.

A victim of his mind,

Prey of his mental state.

To get away from himself,

Yes that was his greed.

Didn’t look back at his people,

Went against his creed.

Seemed like the devil,

Had some valid points indeed.

Maybe he was a king,

Who died like a pawn.

Found that one reason to leave,

Ignored hundreds to go on.

In the dreams of heaven,

Forgot our earth.

In the shadows of others,

Forgot his worth.

He is not worth my tears,

Man hanging from a rope.

But I shed them for those,

Who called him their hope.

No need to bow your head,

Don’t waste a sob.

He was too weak for our world,

Who jumped off the top.

Found a bed to rest,

Found a coffin to hide.

But I cry for those,

For him who cried.

His loved ones, so called

Still standing by his side.

I see them in black.

With flowers by his grave.

Yes I call them bold,

Think of them as brave.

Farewell they give,

His homecoming they crave.

A wound is all they got,

A wound is all he gave.

Hey! diseased one,

Get off the edge

And drop that gun,

Don’t leave the front,

Don’t turn back and run.

We will fight by you,

A battle is to be won.

Just think about those

Who call you their love,

Who call you their friend,

Who call you their son.



                                    -SAMARTH SHARMA