a neverending time.

Aashna Pant
2 min readJan 19, 2020
Photo by Stijn Swinnen

Explosions felt from miles away,

Our slow yet sudden march to death,

The skies above us coloured sickly pale,

Anticipating our very last breath,

The lines were drawn,

And the shots were fired,

My comrades turned stiff beside me,

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Aashna Pant

a poet. a writer. or at least I like to call myself that.