The torn world

Prateek Banerjee

Your creative potential unleashes with full force when the task you are upon is not engaging enough. Thus, some of your best artworks could emerge from a boring lecture, a night before the exam or any other mundane circumstance. Here we have a poem from Prateek which came into existence during a lecture; a poem that captures the essence of a war-torn atmosphere.

This place is war-torn,

All humanity, gone.

The place was full of violence,

Now all that remains is silence.

They said that it was their right that women be raped,

They stripped her when she was draped.

Gunshots are all oneĀ  hears,

No one notices the flood of tears.

Said they, we have to search for biological weapons,

Now see, hang how the threads with sequins.

All the people here are starved,

And all their faces scarred.

And as everyone dies one by one,

Only silence and emptiness bequeath the throne.

 

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