POETRY

In The Land of No Heroes

Poetry on Hero Complex

The guns are weighing him down to a point when he almost sinks to the bottom of an infinite void, where blood on his hands seems more than in his veins, where he butchers lives and grimly buries their remains.

The ringing in his ears only stops on hearing a cry for life as he convinces his other side that it’s for the greater good, to eliminate all evil from the face of the earth and surrender when hell befalls him, as he should.

This secret is a time bomb within him that ticks faster than the one he plants, that is to stay a secret till his wrath meets a triumphant fate.

till he proves the blood spilled was worth the wait, and till this sound in his head stops fuelling up his hate.

tick tock tick tock tick…

© Arundhati 2020