The dead don't call for justice
They are DEAD.
Undead live between
Fractured harmony of life,
And, eternal silence of death
Memories linger on
Like the smell of incense,
Burnt long back
Inside a closed space
Her first cry, her first step,
Her smiles, her wins, her loses
Haunt the Undead
Reminding them,
Like pinprick drawing blood
What could she have been and how did it end
O' Alive cry for justice
See the guilty hangs till the end
Undead are cursed with a life without life,
They were the ones
Who got hung till their last breaths
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Author:
Rebellion In Sanity (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 4th, 2024 04:14
- Comment from author about the poem: The worst curse for parents is to live with the memory of a lost child. Recently, a doctor was raped and murdered when she was resting in the hospital where she worked. I cannot imagine the intensity of the turmoil inside her parents. In the poem the Undead are the parents or those who loved the person he/she lost in violence.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18
Offline)
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