My clan

               My clan’s my foe

With wounds still hurting he entered the field,

      his weapons, he had nearly learnt to wield.

He joined an army he liked the most,

      Better than the place where he nearly lost.

With arms wide open he was welcomed in,

      To fight on their side superiors roped him in.

Battle after battle, showed a spark in him,

      Superiors knew it won’t easily go dim.

The more battles he fought the better he got,

      To help him, his counterparts never gave a shot.

Time and superiors slowly passed away,

      Recognition and glory, all came his way.

As all the superiors slowly vanished,

      Hearts of even neighbors he had vanquished.

The warrior was now chosen to lead,

      But his counterparts never gave him heed.

With all his might he fought many wars,

    While most of his counterparts still played the Saar.

His loneliness never killed his hope,

      He kept on fighting with meager scope.

Once he checked if his wounds did fade,

     To his shock he found new cuts from blade.

Back stabbed he was, for sure he knew,

     He approached his commanders not all but few.

In his solitary war he met some comrades,

    They helped him find hands that wielded the blades.

For his army and commanders he was mercenary,

    who could work for them alike in war and granary.

He commands respect in every clan,

      But his own army has no such plan.

Still he stands with comrades a few,

      No matter how strong the winds blew.

The clan wants him to keep up the fight,

      But questioning the cheaters is never his right.

Holding the weapon down he thinks so,

            “Is my clan my only foe?”