Poetry
The Red Snow
Debrurpa
Chakraborty (Class X)
Cold
just cold
White
snow
As
far as eyes could go…
My
boots tracking
My
breath rasping
Body
washed in cold sweat
Body
tense
Finger
poised
To
pull the trigger at any sign
A
red streak
A
sign enough
I’m
supposed to have no feeling
Yet
feel my heart hammering
Have
to kill… Have to kill
But
I have a feeling
Maybe
the target has a family
Maybe
he is a child.
I
restrain myself and argue
He
has gone rogue
There’s
no hope
But
he is a human, my heart tells me so…
Yet
I seethe with anger
On
his cowardice
Yet
I hate him
Because
he let the people
Control
him …
There
he is.
Rifle
held high
It’s
cold
Just
cold
Yet
he is sweating a cold sweat.
Just
a child
Looks
at me
With
fear laden eyes
But
behind the mask of fear
There
is stark contempt
There
is malice
I
am ready
The
rifle poised high
I
fire at point blank …
At
this point it is mercy
To
have freed him of evil
To
have freed him of hate…
Yet
is he responsible?
Or
the ones behind the high chairs
Hiding
Cowering
Cold
just
Cold
A
cold spot on my soul…
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