Freedom

Scars and Bullet wounds,

Tender minds with gut wrenching stories,

Drunk on wine, tipsy with pledges of wars and ruins,

Frequent run ins with death

Victories that come after all those grim reaper's Agreements,

Freedom, they say, comes with a price

Sacrifices made over widowed lands

Prices paid by the waiting valleys,

The meadows stripped of love,

That reek of shed blood and fresh flesh ,

Freedom, they say ,stinks of death.

Comrade-in-arms, march for million hopes that desire promises

March forth the land that sees no mortals

The land that rest across the threshold of chaos

Where losses elude the path

Where sanity and soul are traded for armors

Armor that fuels the budding dreams

Armor that promises a sound sleep,

Armor that is needed for freedom to survive

Freedom, they say, comes with a price

Prices paid by the men on border,

Prices that hold the stain of dreams,

Freedom, as they say, stinks of lost hopes.