By Sakshat Rao
The thunder pierced through the skin of the cloudy night
And from the magnificent wound poured the bloody rain.
The clouds rumbled through the pulsating pangs of pain,
But lost not their iron will to stand back up and fight.
Mother Earth, on her knees, looked upwards at the skies
Where the heavenly battalions waged on with merciless force.
Metal skins feel no bruise, hollow hearts feel no remorse;
No darker was the night than the blindness of those eyes.
With every thunderous strike ridding the surrounding peace,
Blood-red drops soaked into the soil of the gravely ground.
The wicked winds howled in laughter at the chaos around;
Hoping, with cruelest intents, for the battle to never cease.
Alas, the heat of the war melted the ruptured clouds’ iron will
And Mother Earth could take no more of the perished blood.
She shrieked and shuddered under the weight of the flood
Which uprooted giant trees and swept the debris downhill.
It was a damaging defeat amidst the deadly downpour,
Leaving a trail of destruction at the end of a drawn-out night.
But the sunken clouds would be ready to stand back up and fight
If ever the thundering skies thought of coming back for war.
By Sakshat Rao
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