Well, I’ll tell you all about it,

A Smoke screened night, dimly lit
Trees honed in from both the sides,
Silence, spoke in higher tones
Weird noises and wily moans

Soft bristling leaves of trees,
Spoke of the danger that lay ahead,
Neither humanity, nor him
Heard what the leaves said.

*Single whispere’d voices
Double ended choices
Dreamy skies
The world danced in a spin
He lay dead, still*

Nothing to be made of it,

He died,
A Lonely death
A Man of Twenty,
Lived a life with plenty

What possible reason?

What treacherous treason?

Could have led to his death?

Only one.

He died,
For he was dead already

And his body, held only weight
His heart, only hate.
-Anirudh Shankaran


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