War is when it costs blood for a drop of oil;
and echoes of gun-shots replace sound of peace,
when people die for handful of soil,
and it feels like it is never gonna cease.

When it paints the world red;
and colors seem to be stolen by shadow,
when every mother’s son is on deathbed,
and people still refuse to make a bow.

Then begins the end of conscience;
leaving regret and guilt locked within,
making us helpless to survive the existence,
and we feel like being ruled as puppets of skin.

When the end comes and it chokes the breath;
and people dare to come out with blood-shot eyes,
when it fears to stand even in right direction;
your heart screams for wrong decision and denies.

When it takes courage to laugh;
and its seems hard to begin again,
when the end divides heart into two,
and it leaves you to die in pain.

Then you beg for another chance;
and time laughs like a cruel king,
but there is no option to back off;
and we feel like being ruled as puppets of skin.

© Shreya ♥