Thoughts of freedom fighters

Yes, I fear to see the sky,

My shadow haunts me, which is the reminder of deaths I caused.

My mom inquires to me every day about my whereabouts,

Her anxious tone disturbs me.

The wrinkled hands I used to hold,

Now tremble with happiness at my sight.

I'm a national zealot,

I act like a comforting dew for the unsafe citizens,

While I slowly keep on fading.

They might not know my name,

 till I'm wrapped in a flag.

I hold the guns upright,

To fearlessly fight,

Thundering over the threats,

I become the safety crest.

My expectations about the future are less

But I'm sure about one thing that is-

If one day I die,

My nationalism will make my head held high,

As I lay down, staring up at the sky,

Waiting to see a war free world,

Waiting for my tales to be told and be carried on.