The Never Ending War

He was fighting for long

Tired and bruised

He vowed ages ago

To fight for his people

And he made them proud

Now, war was almost over

He stood up and looked around

The battlefield was silent

But he sensed a strangeness

Not in air, not on ground

But there was something else

A feeling of one last strike

From an ever-changing enemy

Then in a flash!

The old nemesis strike

He was ready for that

And so was his pen

Who morphed into

A bludgeon!



For The Daily Post’s Bludgeon

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