Crumbling Down

Can you understand 
the agony of a titan, which 
cannot afford to show its fall? 

Missing the defeat― 
no one was victorious. 
Battle cry was a phantom. 

The questions, that were 
fluttering in a storm― 
had become the sufi fakirs. 

It was a dirty stricture. 
The colors had stopped flowing. 
Even the death has lost its terror.