August 03, 2015 10:54 pm | Updated March 29, 2016 12:58 pm IST
Two hands to teach.
Two to wound.
To muffle and choke.
The screams, the sob.
No one heard
the melody change.
The way it curdled,
note by note.
No one saw
her fingers pale,
bleed on strings
too taut, too long.
The red creeps in.
Colours her scars.
An embroidery gone wrong;
grotesque, in red.
No one screams.
No one knows.
She plays along,
along, alone. Till,
piece by piece
she falls apart.
A will 'o wisp
on a windless night.
She falls slowly
and wilts.
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