No Matter Which Side
by Malabika
A mother weeps beneath the smoke,
Her hands still clutch a thread of hope.
The sky does not ask where she stands,
It only rains on blood-soaked lands.
Her child, a name now carved in stone,
Not soldier, not foe—just someone’s own.
No anthem sung, no victory claimed,
Can silence grief, or wash the blame.
A cradle sways in...
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