it wasn’t the fault of one, it was of both.
what the war gave was a blood stained cloth.
it was a game for the leaders, but the soilders were risked.
to shoot everyone, the intensions were fixed.
the leaders sat on chair and misclaneously used their powers,
but those on the border, faced bombing and bullet shower.
the bullets and bomb destroyed every beautiful creation,
they killed others, in the name of their nation.
who started it became heroes,
but who all died for it, no one knows.
without thinking anything, they gambled their lives,
they didn’t stop for their children or wives.
to destroy each other, they had taken oath,
but what the war gave, was a blood stained cloth.