Boomerang Apocalypse

Dr Ranbir Laishram
What goes around
comes around—
sharp as a boomerang.

WWI spins past,
drags WWII in its wake.
Hatred's flame, ego's fire,
that immortal itch for power—
they lit the fuse both times.

Now WWIII brews,
same route, same twisted mind.
Hoarders of mass destruction,
arsenals gleaming like fool's gold—
gone in a flash.
Poof. Ash.

What remains?
Mortal scraps in the dust,
from the globe's forgotten corners—
underdeveloped, unbroken,
scrabbling to rise.

And the cycle spins eternal:
hatred reborn, ego unchained.
The reality?
Next round, all dissolve into dust.