Dolls and darkness.

by Purvi Gadia   Oct 5, 2017

When the sky goes dark, it cries and pours,
but what happens
when we go dark;
do we cry and pour too:
pour blood -
blood that'll run streets and sea's red?


Lives stand dull amidst the darkness,
confined to their little selves;
everyone locked within their narrow walls --
locked like dolls in shelves.

Neither antiques nor mannequins on display,
they're all stupid, shallow and dead little beings
who believe in playing wicked games.

There's this man who crawls and slithers,
he cuts their throat while they sleep.
He slithers through their narrow, unseen pipes
and leaves his filthy skin to seep.

There's a woman whose eyes are hollow,
you can see her flesh and bone;
she's bawled out her heart through her eyes
and now is nothing but stone.

You can see through all these eyes you see,
and each is blind you'll see --
there's darkness out there to get us all
there's nothing left in this world to be.

5 October 2017
8:57 p.m


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