Lacking a brick pile With no flag or file Not in memory of folks Are the perished ones. Droplets of their blood of the unsung heroes blessed by the sun, blooms With a golden hue. Among green and blue From the hell as cue. Gulmohar The unsung hero’s tomb. Look at me, agitated Listen to me, aggravated. Shouting their stories For what they died citing their might all their times fights for our lives rights, even the city lights. How they broke The world of silence Wrote. Drew. Taught the world to fair fight. But in the honks and sobs Of buses and mob Deafened by music, are Blinded in speed of existence. Saddened they dive Into bosom of earth Moksha . Others, Crushed by a tyre or Carried away by a sole But that's the thing With unsung heroes ghosts. From hell they bloom Their droplets of blood As Gulmohar The unsung heroes tomb For they have something to say.
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