Thursday, 15 January 2015

A Pen Dipped in Blood








"A Pen Dipped in Blood"





When I shoved the door open
and entered my school,
found my pen resting on the floor,
soused in the blood
of a chap.



The cover of the pen
was still in my hand,
my body lain dead
in the hallway with
many other lads.



I leaned forward,
picked up the pen,
stained with blood.
I jolted it to write,
of what we have been
through, but the ink was faint.
So, I dipped the pen
in the blood
spilt, all over the place,
of all the young- mates.



For, only the blood can narrate
the story of the bloodshed.
As this is not an ordinary tale,
to be indited with some common ink.



I filled pages after pages,
to quickly scrabble
the horrific game,
with the blood filled
in my pen.



I could hear the voices
of all the soul-mates,
calling me up,
to leave with them,
since, I was LATE.



I put the pen
at the same place.
I flew with everyone else
to the heaven in the firmament.



Indeed, my body
will fade away.
Rather, the story,
noted in the pages of history,
written with my blood,
shall never be forgotten.



                     





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