At the outskirts of the town

On an elevated platform

Built-in coloured marbles

Still and silent, stands

The Amar Shahid

Dressed in a military outfit

Waiting for some VIP

To unveil the cloth

For a fresh breathe

Away from the external world

Burning with anguish

Not of the wounds got on the battleground

But not of any ailments.

The weapon of politics

Renders him a commodity in exchange for wealth

His corpse becomes an auctioned thing for the bidder.

The bust is moaning

In his country whose love for The nation was relinquished in statecraft.

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