Doomsday

I was standing straight-

My hands benighted down,

Little bend towards the lord,

And they called my guilty posture.

When I closed my eyes slightly wet-

They dressed me in the butcher’s gown,

Aimlessly swaying my sword,

Goat masks swinging like pendulum’s structure.

Behind me were tall men in cloaks-

They were trying to move a big glass cube,

There were victims floating in water,

As if they were dead and numbed in pain.

I turned to them as the frog croaks-

A cloak-man gave me the reins of their capillary tube,

And a bottle of venom to feed the catheter,

They crowned me the hood to fit over my brain.

I chuckled and shuddered-

My hands benighted down,

Little bend towards the lord,

And they stripped me off in a sudden spate.

When my body was falling down murdered-

They turned the soil into red from brown,

A few survivors were running in hoard,

Slain frog legs smashed in stampede outside the heaven’s gate.

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Written by

Indian

Notes: About Note…

The script naively exposes the ill-belief section of the society that baselessly assumes religious malpractices like suicide preaching, mass killing in the name of cleaning the earth and similar philosophies. However, it does not point or criticizes any particular corner of the world with any motive; as such practitioners can be found throughout the world. The imagination runs parallel to the concept of a hell and is satirical to the evil-doers of the subject. The prejudices explained over the paragraphs have been touted as heinous and the victim witnessing and narrating the event successfully brings out the reader of such a bitter climate.

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