A Living Corpse

By:- Ranjeeta Nath Ghai

What is this place;
Where cowardice, guilt, panic, regret,
Dance around merrily, mockingly
And in crimes he abet.

An essence of darkness
Difficult to erase
Maniacally cackling,
Awaiting his disgrace.

A broken grin, eerie
Those bloodshot, watery eyes
Preparing graves of innocent victims
That deserves nothing but despise.

A living corpse branded
By Islamic State terrorist outfits
Comfortable amongst this circus of an illusion
There isn’t any sin he didn’t commit..?

There used to be a faint echo,
Sometime moments of blissful peace
Solemn intricate, deathly silence
From infant’s play and man’s

The mess he’s made of his life
A million screams, a million curses
A tortured soul, miserably crying
Severed. Shattered. Burning like a furnace.

Sirens. Media. Paramedics.
A convoluted laugh escapes from pursed lips
What is this place? Cold…yet clear
A miscalculation ushering in a apocalypse.


© All Rights Reserved.
©Ranjeeta Nath Ghai,  atrangizindagieksafar, 2016.

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Below is my first published Poetry Book “Mann ki Aarzoo,” which is available on Notion Press, Amazon, Bookadda, Infibeam and Kindle.


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2 thoughts on “A Living Corpse

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