He marched into war, one heavy step at a time,
Amid death & destruction, he stood on a
mine,
Returning home with no feet & leaving no
sign,
A man without footsteps.
He was born without hands, in sad thalidomide
time,
His mother cried on seeing him, “Dear son of
mine”,
He grew up without ever touching, not leaving
a sign,
A man without fingerprints.
He lived in dire poverty, in a place forgotten
in time,
He grew up thinking, “I´m nobody & nothing
is mine”,
Without recognition nor love & never leaving
a sign,
A man without a shadow.
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