The Spectacle

The wind outside couldn’t have been more kinder,

They whistled more wildly now than before.

The moon too, came out from the shadow of clouds

And witnessed whatever it could have.

The stars now shone so brightly

That the sky glimmered as a wedding gown.

Even the night resisted to fade,

And dawn seemed like a distant dream.

The silence of that lonely street

Was adapted from hers.

It was hers…

No one responded to

Her shrieks and her yells,

Her cries and her screeches,

Her squalls and her squeals…

Her body lay still,

Frozen but not dead,

Wounded but not dead,

Damaged but not dead,

Harmed yet not dead.

That supreme soul who inflicted the pain

Had no mercy to kill her.

He repeatedly, shoved his impotence

Between her thighs.

But when that wasn’t enough

He ruined her eternity and ejaculated his humanity.

The silent eyes watched her

All collapsed,

All decomposed,

All naked.

She took what she got,

So the silence was all hers…