Kicked and Crushed

He was a little boy, one foot tall.
Boys of his race were always small.
My brother and I used to kiss his head,
His blood was yellow, sometimes red.

He had five legs, short and stout.
We loved to kick him and make him shout.
His cry was annoying and sounded bad,
But still we used to kick him like mad.

His body was brittle and easy to crush,
He lived in a cold house to be always fresh.
We took off his cap and put him down.
The boy who was liked by all in the town.

He'd run off to the road and keep rolling there.
We never did help him for we didn't care.
Vehicles shot past him but he wasn't scared.
Tricks like those we never ever dared.

Happily he rolled in dust and dirt,
In the process he tore his tiny shirt.
Oh dear! The boy was fully unclad.
Seeing this, won't his parents feel bad?

Just then Andy slammed the throttle,
Killing the boy named Pet Bottle.

The Ordeal

Cursing under his breath,
Sameer got up from the floor.
Thinking, "Better could be death".
An agonized look he bore.

His eyes failed him,
He stretched his hands outward.
He started to sing a hymn.
He was a god-fearing coward.

This ordeal was too much to bear.
His zest was subdued.
He thought this was just unfair.
He uttered words that were rude.

He felt highly helpless,
There was nothing he could do.
Like a bullet, swift and aimless,
He walked ahead too.

His sweating was profuse,
He felt like ripping his clothes off.
This suffering he just couldn't refuse.
His situation didn't make him laugh.

With an outstretched hand
He gripped the fridge's handle.
In the dairy items stand
He found a big candle.

His mom shouted, "Fast!"
He hurried back to the hall.
For long did the power cut last
And he couldn't watch football.

The Tale of a Martyr

He crawled on the ground
The weight of his Heckler and Koch straining his arm.
The thorns of the brambles bruised his neck
Sending a pulse of searing pain down his spine.
The dry leaves and grass that camouflaged his structure
Made it hard for him to move.

The midday sun cast on him its fiery rays,
His eyes felt heavy due to last night's reconnaissance.
He cursed his foes,
He swore to defeat them.
He swore to defend his motherland.
He swore to return home triumphant.

The image of the enemy soldiers he killed
Flashed before his eyes.
His confidence soared high.
He took great pride in his work
He was a loyal man.

His thoughts went back to his family,
The toothless grin of his kid etched in his mind.
His heart swelled with grief,
But the time it lasted for was brief.

He lifted his head to survey his surroundings.
He fell dead the next moment.
An enemy sniper had spotted him
He fell prey to its wicked bullet.

Then the screen flashed 'Mission failed'.
Andy yelled, "fuck you!!"

SOS

I chose that fate and
I had to face its aftermath.
There is no one to blame,
For it was a conscious decision of mine.

The move I made affected me greatly,
Its upshots were wild and hard to bear.
I went against my family to do this,
The family that knows nothing but care.

There I was completely drenched in sweat,
Finding it hard to breath.
My chest was pounding heavily,
Violently shaking were my fingers.

My eyes I had to squint and
I was slowly losing consciousness.
I tried much to keep
My self completely awake.

I went through this for an hour,
This ordeal that equals being inside a furnace.
I got back to normal and
Took a deep breath
Like a drowning man rising above the surface.

I had sent the last SMS of the day and
Taken the blanket off my head
Just a couple of minutes ago then.