Society: the well

A withered stoned well,

Rotten and deep.

From heaven to hell,

To make everything weep.
Miles and miles,

Reside impalpable.

Only the crying walls,

Tearing the untouchable.
Down there,

In disgust and squalor.

Thousands and thousands,

Of snakes wear pallor.
Poisonous and dark,

With hatred in their hearts.

Between the alive and dead,

For blood, their souls arc.
Tempting the wicked,

By their scavenging mouths.

Swallowing blood, putrid and corrupt,

No water from the south.
Those sucking mouthful grave,

To swallow a breath.

Are the winners,

Of this gambling quest.
The girl, bare feet,

Aware yet innocent.

Stands by the stinking well,

Shattered, can’t pay off the debt.
Trembling her hands,

For her lover awaits her presence.

Of misfortune and burden,

Can’t digest the essence.
Can’t walk to him,

Can’t lay in his arms.

Cause he is the son,

Of who has digested her farms.
He waits in her cottage,

To argue, to claim.

While she peeps in the well,

So rotten, so vain.
Beautiful were those,

Merry days of love.

When no one knew about,

Bonded hearts with invisible cuffs.
Nothing remains anymore,

Of the relations of past.

Except the snakes from before,

Craving water for their cast.
For all those who sin,

End up in the well.

By guilt or by hands,

Bloodless parched bodies swell.
No skin remains, no muscle,

No one chooses the well to die.

Yet when the lover runs to her,

She doesn’t bid a goodbye.
With tears in eyes,

And her letter in hands.

He stands speechless,

Overwhelming regret for all his plans.
Stand naked his words,

For the promises he couldn’t keep.

Couldn’t save her from the world or from himself,

All that’s left is to weep.
But the syndrome of life,

He no longer wishes to cure.

Jumps after her,

For the death could allure.
The ruthless snakes were priced delight,

Of the fresh blood of longing.

Them, with no urge to fight,

The upcoming belonging.
– Muskan.

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