Blood In the Sea
We die for land everyday,
With blood and sweat spent in it,
Just to end in two yards of grave,
But look at the poor fisherman,
With half stomach wrapped in dhoti,
Standing on the golden shore,
With zeal at it's zenith,
To conquer the vast sea in front,
With a piece of wool wrapped on wood!,
Or!
To colour the ocean with own blood!
Copyright © Alok Yadav | Year Posted 2021
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