The police found her body.
Her body when she was dead.
Who, none did know.
But blood did flow.
Her blood, when she was dead.

The doctor felt her pulse.
Her pulse, which was as dead.
And with a twist
He turned her wrist.
Her wrist, which she had bled.

They called her parents.
Her parents who had fed.
There broke a cry.
Many throats turned dry.
Turned dry, on her death-bed.

Then friends were called.
Her friends; and tears each did shed.
Told when they lived and laughed.
How did this happen instead!
Her death; and why she was dead?

The parents were questioned.
Her parents still filled with shock and dread.
Then friends and familiars, then strangers too.
None of them, no one had a clue.
No clue, what made her bled.
But blood did flow
And so did life.
The life around her.
The life, when she was dead.
            
                                                             - Nandish Malhotra