​In midst of the dreary lands, Lies the deserted, empty citadel. Burried under millenia old dirt And ancient concrete, Lie the remains of courage. Stories of valour, Still whispered by those, Those without hands or feet Or a soul vessel to carry their souls. Under generous amounts of history, Lie the tales of treachery, The tales of faith and love and hope, Saved by nature are the bodies of those. Though horrific to the untrained eye, And gruesome to the unaware, This citadel has a grandiose, unmatched, Only to be unearthed by the devoted And never to be torn, revealed by violence. But then the demons came Wicked reasons in their hearts and minds They came with guns and tanks and bombs They came to uproot your pride, oh Rome! So where are you, you bravest of braves? Rise! Now is the time to rise from your graves! Dead you may be, not forgotten, So rise and sing your national anthems Wake before they rob your treasures And whisper to them tales of your slaughter. Scream to them the grandeur of your burg And speak to them of sacrifices of your fellows.

Published by Sohini Dutta