Thousand Cuts

India's soul was wrenched with blood On every eyes there were tears flood. When Akshardhaam was assaulted, The night when Mumbai got murdered At dawn when Uri got unleashed When Pulwama was plaqued And when Pahalgam got plundered. Bullets echoed and so- The harrowing cries of thousands unknown. For countless children, the nation wept. To save some people unknown, A soldier sacrificed their beautiful world. Land continued to bleed with a thousand cuts And still may unknown to us. Yet today we pay a price of life, To keep this India's glory alive. Whatever pain we shall endure, But never let the tricolour loose its lure. For every cut this land bears- We shall make it stride With its own pride. The nation shall fight For every treachery against its soil, With his gllorius might. Our spirits undeterred, Our desires unchanged, Our grit unparalleled, Our resolve undoubted. We shall grief for every drop of indian blood But would never let down The formidable spirit in our mind. -Tathastu Dubey