Yesterday saw a dying man
lying breathless on the cobbled
pavement, near the majestic Promenade
A face so fragile, marred by the ailment
called life, a look of a victim
and hardships endured
An appearance of a sullen
disappointment, masked beneath
the scaly, withered skin
Hanging on to one thread of breath,
life gradually dithering,
in his emaciated body.
Cries of pain and suffering
echoing a tale of broken,
promises and misfortunes so heavy.
Crowds gathered around to,
witness the grand finale; the
the spectacle of death so cheap.
A sigh of relief a gentle,
reassurance, glance at the sky
for thank god, it wasn’t me.
Creaking sound of creature’s
cries, torturous unbearable
to the refined human ear.
Terrified at the final performance
crowds dispersed, thinking of
the share they might have to offer.
Life oozing out of the blob
of flesh, a gush of air exhaled
from the parched mouth.
A faint voice, oh god!
lighting struck, ending the tale
of a man who lost the battle too soon
Tanya Shukla