A poignant, hard-hitting poem on humanity and the perils of a sensitive soul.
A murder took place;
With fresh blood of many colours;
Between them a dead river created a mark;
Which defines the tragedy;
Some colours finally released their limbs;
And some became endangered;
Pain was hungry to engulf the body;
As it heard the rumour of a death;
It flew like a hawk in search of a serpent;
A soul finally created it’s sketch in the panes of his window;
While the other was running to never let the sketch touch him;
Many asked “Who was murdered?”
While very few asked about the murderer;
As the murderer resided in every soul;
In the deep cracks it lurks with venomous tongue;
A loud thud was heard with some codes in it;
The murderer knew that he was hunted;
He ran with all his strength;
His heart wrenched because of lack of energy;
Love was murdered by hatred that day;
Miles away hatred never knew that salvation was hunting him;
He didn’t murder love;
He murdered himself;
He was safe when he had the company of love;
And now he was murdered in a lonely place with no souls.
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