The rain pelts the sharp jagged window panes
As she huddles in a corner of the darkening room hurting full of pain,
The probing fingers of early evening frost play a game of chess
And invade the unprotected battlements of her frail body with success.

Outside, the lightning bares its hideous teeth with savage intent.

The storm gathers its troop for the carnival carnage of fright
That it has lustfully planned for this nightmarish night,
People can be heard running outside on the wet pavements,
Everywhere can be heard the sound of humans hunting for shelters beneath gravestones.

Inside, the decaying boards of the room reek with insidious desires.

She can sense the lower depths of pollution
That surround her but nobody will ever execute a solution,
This child of mankind will be shrouded in grim reality
Which is preached as a sincere morality.

Within, her soul is sore,
but it will never be vanquished by these feeble forces.



©Rangzeb Hussain