The marks of her tears are
Etched permanently on her pink cheeks.
Her beautiful lips ******
Even when she shrieks.
Her desperate cries go on and on.
Her voice is now hoarse.
She begs us to stop but
Ends up provoking us even more.

We **** her.
And watch her bleed.
Beauty itself invites destruction.
So isn't she responsible for our deeds?

She flails her arms.
She screams.
She tries to fight.
She cannot challenge our iron might.

There will come a time when everyone will know, she says.
We slap her across her rose-tinted face.
Everyone already knows, but there is no one to fear
Because everyone is an animal out here!

Someday she will fall silent forever
After cursing and begging in vain.
And though we are the plunderers of her treasures,
Do you think we would bow down our heads in shame?

We wouldn't mind pressing, for the last time,
Her dead woman's arms under our iron hands.
Yes, we would **** for one last time, her wealth.
She is, after all, just a piece of land.

It dances and shimmies and leaps.
I jump and howl and weep,
While the tail-less lizard tuts in dismay,
"Oh dear I'd never dreamt of this day",
Wiggling away to the deep.

Do not shout, or else, I will shoot,
My voice rings out loudly, surprising me too,
I wield my gun, my little black toy,
I know for sure, what magic it can do.

My friend signals me to enter the cockpit,
I feel menacing, but I know my mission,
With some help from my friend, we seize control,
Everything is going as planned, he tells me, giving me the honor of a promising fighter.

Yes, fighter I am, a fighter for the good.
And for goodness to reign, do we not have to finish the bad?
My teachers and my leaders have taught me the distinction between the evil and the holy,
And today, I stand, to accomplish the most prime task on our hands.

The plane has been hijacked, and we are on track,
It is our own toy now, and the game is, to take lives…
This plane is our missile, and our target-the oppressors,
Those killers who deserve to be beheaded alive.

Our toy will now crash into another one, this time, a huge building,
And we will lead to the fall of those wicked souls.
Malice will shriek, and shout in despair,
And victory will be ours, and ours alone.

This is the moment, where the excitement of the game begins,
We are flying at breakneck speed, bracing ourselves to witness our triumph,
My heart beats fast, and my blood flows faster, but then suddenly…
I hear someone’s voice screech into a wail…

I run to see where the sound comes from,
And I see a little child crying,
His head rests in the arms of another little girl,
Who rocks forwards and backwards, shouting, “brother, we are dying!”

We are dying…these words ring in my ears again and again….
We are dying…yes I too am going to, but is this not, part of our game?
We are dying…little girl, why cry, when our mission is about to be accomplished?
We are dying…no! these words are about to turn me insane!

I see innocence yelp in desperation,
And I realise what a killer I am,
For my own game, I am eliminating others’ lives…what have they done?
What right do I have then, to call my work holy, how can I say, that a fighter I am?

My other friends shout at me, that we are very near our target,
I look at them, their leering selves, and think of how they betrayed me,
I was their soldier, I worked in their army, but this was an army of killers!
their baseless philosophies, their gory ideals, had strayed me!

Somebody from the cockpit, shouts, that God has won, we have too,
But have we really won? How have we?
I know not, what God wants us to do…I just know, that he loves us all,
So how can we be triumphant, in killing the ones he loves?

It’s a matter of seconds, I can save no lives,
But I know, that I can die with realization instead of dying a killer’s death,
I am sorry for those who will lose their lives because of me,
I was simply ignorant, but I am still guilty, and my guilt has only one outlet…

My sweaty hands grasp my gun tightly,
I smile reassuringly at the crying boy,
Who I am helping by this action, I know not, but I am freeing my soul,
As I place on my very own forehead, the deadly mouth of my little black toy…

I lie with my arms folded on
A white sheet spread over an iron bed.
My bulging eyes sit over my reddened face,
I am ruined; I am dead.

Then I see them, they’ve come for me!
Clothed in crystal, flowing white.
They look down at me, coldly,
And I look back at their unblinking eyes.

I’d waited for it; I’d fought for it-
And now that time has arrived,
Of my freedom, abandonment,
My true birth, after this fickle life.

But then I see more men around me,
Invisible behind their aprons and masks.
They remove the killer rope from my neck,
And a finger traces along its mark.  

And so, I lie on the iron bed,
Lifeless, but not soul-less,
Surrounded by Angels and humans,
Both of whom had arrived on the occasion of my death.

Take me home! I lift my translucent arms
And plead to the Messengers of Heaven.
I don’t want to stay and see my body being
Split into halves, divided into fragments.

“But how can we, so easily,
Rid you from your life?
You made the mistake of doing that,
Of which no man has been given the right!”

As the Angels speak, the scalpel starts
To burrow into my skin.
Deftly my flesh is peeled away,
Revealing my organs of vitality within.

My heart no longer beats.
My blood no longer flows.
My lungs no longer fill with air.
My anxiety to leave suddenly grows.

O Angels from the bountiful Heavens,
You do not know how exhausting life can be!
I’d got tired of breathing and gave up,
Because God too had given up on me.

So, liberate me now and take me
From where I came and to where I belong,
Where questions are asked and justice is done,
Where the rights are weighed against the wrongs.

A hand enters my open chest,
And forcibly pulls out my heart.
And just then, the Angels too relent,
And wrench my soul and body apart.

Angels and humans scavenge over me,
On my spirit and flesh they together feed.
But I’m happy, because morsel by morsel,
From the shackles of life, I’m being freed.

*I’m finally out, I look back slowly,
They’re stripping my face off my skull.
I look ahead, and float away in thin air,
No sign of my existence remaining on the Earth.

Light me up, baby.
Spread your sunshine over my dark sky.
Ward these sinister  clouds away, please!
I need you, my rainbow, glimmering before my eyes.  

It’s a white, plain piece of paper,
This dull life of mine,
It needs the ink of your passion to write over it,
The colorful story of our union, sublime.

So mix into my insipid existence,
Some of your sugar; it needs your flavor.
Sweeten it with a smile, and the twinkle of your eyes,
Wouldn’t you do me this little favor?

I wander, like the solitary stream of water
In the mountains, searching frantically for the river.
Like the tide trying each night, to reach for the moon,
My soul too restlessly thrashes hither and thither.

Like the still boat floating in the silent, dark waters,
In solitude and quiet, I want to lie with you.
Like the green grasses awaken, glittering in the morning,
I want to wake up with the glow of being enamored by you.

Embrace me, like the orange-hued sky
Caresses, at the horizon,  the lonely sea.
Like the rustling leaves that whisper to each other in the  breeze,
Lean in and speak softly, sweet-nothings to me.

Come to me now, let all of time converge into that one moment,
When your lips will, for a second or two, over mine, teasingly hover,
Then kiss me for an infinity, and let me melt into the arms,
Of you- my hero, my paramour, my eternal lover.

As the redness of the skies envelops life
As the day stands on the brink of dying
As existence knows that, it is time to retire
I know that it is time to step into my world.

The shutters of shops go rattling down,
The chirps of birds cease, with them heading off to the nests of comfort
The honking of cars grows louder, as the desires to go back home increase
But I am restless, dying to go, in a world away from where I live.

That world houses my being, my real self, the real “me”
I am in control there; no one restricts my expressions,
No one perturbs me with hypocritical rules, ideals and regulations,
But for the wind, which comes in sometimes, to blow in those moral handcuffs-
Which are weak, but they hurt.

But once I stop that wind of limitations, I sprout wings…
To fly away with their help, and attain freedom!
Freedom from what I am forced to do, freedom from what I am forced to think.
The day has died, but I am alive, liberty at my disposal!

You might say that my world is nothing but a virtual game,
Made just by the cards of my imagination
And sure, this world falls apart as soon as daylight enters my bedroom window,
This light blinds me; it shouts at me, that my other self is short lived, as good as dead.

But though my spirit comes alive only in the dark, hidden from all,
Though my inner self lightens up, but not for long,
I am happy that I have the courage to at least release my true expressions,
I am happy that my day awakens, quenching all my needs…
As the night goes on.