Plight of Life

I stood upon the ruins of what was once a city;

I stared at what was once a home,

That curiously belonged to me as if such bits mattered any more.

I stood upon the mounds of men,

Of what was once a living, breathing person and many, many more,

Now strewn away, frozen and stiff,

And yet still hauntingly alive,

Mocking the living, at the plight of life.


I stood upon what was once a nation,

As lands yielded to the greedy tentacles of infernal flames,

As farms of flames spread their seeds,

As rains of seeds drowned the ominous sound of a thousand bees.


I stood upon his gaze,

The hatred, cold and hard.

I stood upon what was once me,

A haunting memory,

As I mocked at the plight of their lives…

-Prasad P