By Chitra Chidambaram
Dear humans,
I observe your fondness for the colour red
you smear it on your hands
you enjoy seeing it on hearts
you bathe me in it, as you comfortably sit
singing patriotic songs on social media
your egos waiting for the post to garner a million hits.
I lie beneath you,
as you mindlessly walk roughshod over me
wearing my mask on life's illusory streets
eyes blinded by power, lust, greed.
I know I'm dying, but are you even living?
the blood on your hands is not mine
it's your own blood
your epitaph will read:
'a walking cyanide, to cleanse the earth
fortunately swallowed himself and
died by suicide in a wasted birth.’
yours faithfully,
humanity
By Chitra Chidambaram
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