with knees down on pedestal
and an armour cracked open,
i seek thee.
The one where all arrows tore in.
One by one.
Million by one.
savages savoured the blood of thee.  groves collapsed in distance.
A fright could've been said.
I ponder upon strength of thee.
Who i can never be.
For i write and write and write till the paper is sick of me.

“ how simplicity could be a tragedy for you.
Dramatization is not art ”
my pen could whisper it yet how soft you stood,
As a hug i long for.