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Bleeding Red
Bleeding Red
A tapestry woven with threads of red, India's soul, where heroes bled. Borders, lines on a mortal chart, United by spirit, a noble heart.
From pens to swords, a symphony of might, Against the tyrant, a righteous fight. Each drop of crimson, a sacred hue, Freedom's dawn, a vision true.
Eighty years, a fleeting span, Yet shadows linger, a cruel plan. No alien foe, but kin turned strife, A battle for justice, a desperate life.
Dalits, oppressed, a mournful cry, Ambedkar's vision, a d
istant sky. Criminals roam, with impunity's grace, A land of contrasts, a bitter chase.
Kalikaal's grip, a haunting fear, Epic wisdom, a fading sphere. Ravana's evil, a timeless tale, Indian demons, a haunting wail.
Silenced truth, a censored art, Justice delayed, a broken heart. Another Mahabharata, a looming threat, When will this madness, finally be met?
A nation yearning for a righteous reign, Where unity prevails, and love sustains. Where every soul, finds its rightful place, And freedom's promise, a bright embrace.
