Fresh
written by: Megha Sood
@meghasood16
There is nothing new in this world
or the place where I’m in
counting the minutes lost by the clock
with no hands
our body is outlasted by our bones
our only testament in the world,
hollow and brittle–
but they can’t tell the truth
no matter how voyeuristic your life was
they are buried
numb and mute in the rotting soil,
they outlive us;
they are marks of the immortality
the rocks of the tomb are
battered and degraded,
as the hands bring me into it
surrounded by silent rocks
and the stone-hearted people
reeking of the dark pain
carried in their hollowed eyes,
everything is stale
and reeks of the stench
of the pain and jealousy
they carry in their hearts
but I’m fresh as a daisy
my body still warm
as I’m being lowered
in the freshly dug grave.
Megha Sood
Latest posts by Megha Sood (see all)
- Why Do You Pray? - September 7, 2021
- Quest – A Reflection in The Woods - May 7, 2021
- Fresh - December 5, 2020
