Love, Nature, poetry

The Cockroach King

Hearing some strange noises
Whispers, voices…
Turning into a dirty roach
Nocturnal creature from the gutter
Swiftly crawling with its dagger tentacles 
Creeping up my scaly dry skin
Parched, thirsty devoid of passions
Making way from legs to hands
Looks straight into stony eyes 
Refusing to budge, it stands its ground
Regal maroonish, emperor of obscurity
Companion of the dark, leaping up to me 
Making a hissing sound, secreting a strange odor
Disclosing a wisdom of the ancients
Not ready to back down, resilient 
Stubborn master, wriggling smoothly on flesh
Slithering cold under my blouse 
Perhaps it needs some warmth too

-Tanya Shukla


1 thought on “The Cockroach King”

  1. True cockroach also need a warmth upto some extent.No matter how much hated.its unwanted secret guest of our homes.

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