The wave of my tears ebbs and flows

© 2020 KRITIKA THAKUR

The calm before the storm,

of all pride, we are shorn,

Always we are torn,

before you know it, we are gone

We take and we hoard

We give, we implore,

No justice and no court,

We live and die by the sword

No peace, but no war

Wonder what this is for

Remember our days of yore

Here, Ipour out all of my woes,

That Ihave always held to my heart, close

For the last time I strike my pose,

The wave of my tears ebbs and flows…