Day five is darker, more cruel than the last,
As my brothers fall, their spirits cast.
Bhima roars in fury, tearing through ranks,
While Yudhishthir's heart silently sinks.

My arrows fly, but my soul is torn,
Each life taken is another soul mourned.
The Kauravas surge, their hatred like fire,
But for the sake of truth, I must not tire.

Bhishma’s shadow looms large over the land,
A mountain I cannot yet withstand.
But Krishna’s voice keeps me strong and sure,
For dharma must prevail, pure and secure.