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Mrs. Mary’s Fate

‘Yes we’re dead’, say sulking dead
‘Our bodies were left and no grave was made,
apparent fear is what everyone shows,
not one come close to lift our souls.’

Death did come to look at our face,
Went ahead without giving us grace,
Left are we with a persecuted self,
Looking in others for a comforting solace.


On one sunny Sunday, Mrs. Mary came
‘It seems so sad in this barren land’
All flowers here die, such a woe in air,
I’ll give this land my love of its share.’

Vehemence in us she drove right away
‘She’s a christian soul’, we cried every day
‘Sententious alchemy is in all her ways.’
Esurience for her presence could be felt in our says.

Like a halcyon she clamed our beast
Reverence for her in us was no least
Iron-clad were we to her presence
We relished her state of celibacy.

On one gloomy Sunday a man came
With dagger in hand and greed in eyes
Barged into cottage of Mrs Mary
Slaughtered her and stole her case

She joined our league in a desolated state
All that left in her was hate
She no longer had the love for land
She was now painted in hue of pestilance


Death came by to look at her
Bedlam in her could be felt at far
He left her with us to atone her hate
We know now we’re again in cold embrace.









   © 2016 VIREN
                                                                         

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