#murder

666 posts
  • pallavi4 1w

    Catastrophe

    I lie bleeding under a canopy of shimmering stars
    Aware that this will be the last time I see them
    The cold seems to have seeped into my broken bones
    I’m coughing clots of blood along with the phlegm

    As life slowly ebbs towards the end
    I cling to each moment, each breath
    I shiver thinking any minute may be my last
    I seem to be inches away from death

    Life flashes before my now drooping eyes
    As I lie dying on the grassy greens of my own house
    In life I hadn’t achieved much
    Neither been a good father nor a bearable spouse

    My wife, the doting, meek, mother of two
    Stands by me watching me hang on to my dear life
    She’s soaked to the bone , as am I
    I lie prostrate on the ground, she holding a bloody knife

    In my life I had had little consideration for her
    Or for that matter anyone else but me
    I had been spoilt and selfish, self centered and a cheat
    Inspite of my kids I had always considered myself free

    She had on the other hand had
    Spent her life tending to me and later the kids
    Her obliging, sweet manner were good for a person like me
    Oblivious to her own needs she had lived

    I had cheated on her for years now
    She had only now discovered one
    Read the love notes written by one of them
    So she knew how behind her back I’d been having fun

    When confronted with the notes I denied
    Any knowledge of their existence
    Plead to her of my innocence in the matter
    Thought I could persuade her with some persistence

    The lies did not seem to have moved her
    She was embarrassed, angry and outraged
    I had underestimated the degree of her ire
    She stood seething like an animal who had been kept caged

    Without a word , she lurched at me
    The blade of her meat knife piercing my heart
    As I fell to the floor I lost count of the slashes
    They’d been so unexpected that they’d given me a start

    I slowly dragged myself away from her
    Towards the garden I started to crawl
    She stood like an amazon watching me mewl
    Watching my blood soil the floors and the walls

    As the thunderstorm outside blessed
    Her lovingly tended garden with showers of rain
    She followed me out to the lawn
    Where I now lay writhing in extreme pain

    The kids were asleep although they were
    By now used to the silent treatments and fights
    I wondered what they would think of their gentle mother
    After she disposed me off this very night

    I pleaded with her to get me a doctor
    I knew I was close to being gone
    She stood silently like a block of wood
    While I bled out on her meticulously manicured lawn

    She walked to the house alone after orchestrating the catastrophe
    The nearest neighbours were further away than a mile
    For the first time in years once she shut the door
    Her face lit up with a beatific smile

    @pallavi4

    22nd of November , 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner- “Blind Love” by Cora Tiana

    #thunderc #catastrophe #stories_in_poems #murder #dark_poems #betrayal #love_gone_sour #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #miraquill #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • arp_20 2w

    ‌‌ख़याल

    कुछ अधूरे से ख़याल है, पता नही बोलूं भी या....
    या बस छोड़ दूं उन्हे कत्ल करने ख़ुद का।

    ©arp_20

  • barbietocatwoman 4w

    A night so macabre
    Travelling blood across tiles
    I wipe the worst of the splatter, but
    Not even I can clear the prints from your mind

    If your thoughts are eating at you currently then your conscience still exists

    Mine was eroded,
    the first murder I got away with

    If you're thinking of calling the cops I promise you're gonna be locked up solo

    I have a little black book to rely on
    and you have nothing
    and no one

    Well, except me but I'm not much to go on

    Besides, I'm not the killer at present
    though thank you for my surprise party
    too bad you couldn't make it
    crime, alibi and all the..."things" you're covered in

    Did she really cheat though?

    No, don't even speak;
    plausible whatchamacallit

    Now I'll need you to step onto this,
    and strip down so we can complete the right of passage to getting away with shit


    ©barbietocatwoman

  • _truesayings_ 6w

    Maybe if we tell people the brain is an app, they'll start using it.

    ©_truesayings_

  • nutcracker3 7w

    Dedicated to most females of my life.
    #wod #murder @writersnetwork

    Read More

    Getting away with my murder

    I tried to tell you at once
    But you said you know it all
    That I must keep it in,
    Marry and settle down
    When people asked you why she did it?
    I see you fumbling under your breath
    You managed to tell them
    "..I have no idea, why..!"
    Sis, please try saying the same
    To the cops outside our house
    ©nutcracker3

  • raman_writes 11w

    क़ातिल

    तक़दीर कहाँ बदली किसी की किसी का क़त्ल करने से ।

    तफ़तीश जब भी हुई क़त्ल की क़ातिल ही पकड़े गए ।।


    ©raman_writes

  • czarcasm 12w

    Existed

    Dark was the night
    That caressed my hair
    Sensual the movement
    The fluidity of the rain
    Enticing



    The tapping of you
    Upon the leaves in the forest
    Distract me from my dilemma
    A peaceful break


    Sticky was the fluid upon my hands
    Barely seen until lightening striked
    A stark red
    Against a background of white


    I had gone too far this time
    I would admit that
    But I always did that
    Something I couldn't control


    I would have to burn these clothes
    The rain only to wash it away
    To get it off my skin
    The copper smell reminded me of pennies


    It amazing how I was able to stand here
    In complete silence
    After the malicious act I had committed
    Calculated
    Premeditated


    And I had enjoyed it
    But I didn't enjoy this
    It welded itself to my skin
    The water in the flashes of light
    A deep red
    Slowly lightening until it was gone


    Everything but me
    And the indistinguishable figure
    On the ground
    Funny
    They themselves had been a serial killer
    And thought I was just another victim


    Little did they know
    That there was something even worse
    Than them
    And now they were dead
    As the many victims before


    And I stood yet again the victor
    Clothes stained in red
    Some would say dead in the eyes


    The body beside him
    Stabbed multiple times
    The memory of blood going everywhere
    A beautiful horror even to me


    What was I?
    A murderer?
    Im just like you
    If I walked past you wouldn't even see me
    Blind are you to the mundane before
    That move about their day


    The sound of the shovel
    The clapping of thunder
    The tapping of rain
    My own concert
    As I dug their last resting place
    They didn't deserve a proper burial
    But I have to do it right
    And when I walk away


    It'll be as if none of us

    Existed

    ©czarcasm

  • pallavi4 12w

    Hands

    I awoke with a scream and saw blood on my hands
    Her unmoving form was beside me and a knife was in my hands
    Startled and shaken, the knife slipped from my hands
    The situation seemed bizarre and out of my hands
    How had the knife and blood made their way into my hands?
    I stood up unsteadily , placing my weight on my hands
    And glanced around and again at my bloody hands
    In the middle of nowhere , out of place looked my bloody hands
    A rope I thankfully found placed beside her slashed hands
    I tied her legs and bound her two fragile and mangled hands
    Then dragged her to the nearby lake by her hands
    I threw her into the lake using all the strength in my hands
    I threw the knife too, flung it with my hands
    Then cleaned the blood off carefully off of my hands
    The crime scene now didn’t hold a connection to me or my hands
    I was bewildered that I had managed a murder with these artistic hands
    I walked towards the winding road looking at my hands
    Mentally I wouldn’t be able to rid the blood off of my hands
    I stumbled and fell down often weighing down on my hands
    Yet I continued walking for the sake of these very hands
    Only a brush and paint ever had been held by these hands
    Now in a mess I was thanks to the wilfulness of my hands
    Why did I have to commit a crime using these artist’s hands ?
    I looked at the light at the end of the road covering my eyes with my hands
    It became brighter till it shone from between my hands
    It was then that I woke up from my dream screaming and waving my hands
    At the source of the light trying to stop it with my hands
    I took my head into my tired and long fingered hands
    Then kept staring confused at the paleness of my innocent, bloodless hands

    @pallavi4

    2nd of September, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner- “Acrylic Hands” by Elle Smallwood

    #wod #epistrophe #hands #stories_in_poems #murder #sleep #gore #knife @writersnetwork #writerstolli #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • pallavi4 13w

    Touched

    I was in the kitchen putting away the grocery
    When I heard him in come through the main door
    The sound of the heels on his shoes made me cringe
    Like everyday, as he walked on the wooden floor

    Wordlessly he bounded up the stairs
    It had been several weeks since we last spoken
    The final nail in the coffin had been when
    My favourite painting in a fit of rage he’d broken

    Everything now about him seemed to get on my nerves
    I didn’t think I could make this last much longer
    To stand his perky, overly hyper mannerisms
    I suspected he’d require someone much stronger

    I’m not sure when it happened exactly
    But I couldn’t be around him anymore
    He would chew his food noisily and make
    Gurgling noises when tea he would pour

    His lack of empathy and his sarcasm that he
    Thought made him the smartest one in the room
    Would make me want to strangle him slowly
    Painfully beat him to a pulp with my broom

    It was safe to say that I was done with him
    Only two options in front of me now lay
    Either I could grin, bear and put up with him
    Or find a way out to flee and from him get away

    I stood holding the chef’s knife from the counter
    After a while I stealthily made my way up the stairs
    We lived in the country, deep in the woods
    I was sure no one would hear a thing from there

    He was asleep upstairs quite soundly
    When I creaked open the bedroom door
    I crept inside like a seasoned thief and quietly
    Slit his throat, spilled his guts on the floor

    I stood over his unmoving form like an amazon
    Feeling relief, freedom and a sense of pride
    I’d managed to assuage my anger from the fights
    Made myself again feel alive inside

    The sight of his blood oozing made me feel
    Strangely and amusingly intrigued
    I wouldn’t have ever imagined a door mouse like me
    Would feel so elated instead of remorseful fatigue

    Someone suddenly touched my shoulder
    And I jolted from what had been a daydream
    He apologised and hugged a very nervous me
    While I sat like a unfeeling rock stifled a scream

    I’d begun to fantasise in the summer heat
    While waiting for him to go upstairs
    In my head I’d attained the awaited emancipation
    And become irritated when oblivious to reality I was caught unaware

    @pallavi4

    31st of August, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner- Bloody Fingers by Dark Mood Art

    #touchedc #stories_in_poems #stories #murder #death #revenge #killing #spouse #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #writerstolli #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • the_amorist 13w

    The Eyes

    He sits at the dock, head down

    Averting his gaze from the public's eyes filled with fury

    Along with the face of his frail old mother

    Awaiting the inevitable verdict of the jury

    His rap-sheet's one that wouldn't fail to astound

    One would be more fruitful attempting to boil an ocean

    Than to try and fathom how the escalation came into motion

    'Guilty on all charges' announces the judge

    He tries to remember the first time

    He ever crossed the line 

    As his mind is flooded by the auld lang syne

    Taking him back to those nights of innocence

    When he was more human in a sense

    Earphones plugged in as he listens

    To only music of a certain kind that tickled his fancy

    Head on his pillow, eyes towards the ceiling

    Nothing else he could find as appealing

    Or so he thought it first

    He and his mother took pride in the fact

    That he was one of the few kids on the scene

    Who chose to stay clean

    Till that Night of December 17

    Upon preparing for his usual routine

    He encounters a sight

    Amidst the darkness, unlike any other

    Eyes like rubies that shined bright

    They seemed to be staring at him

    And briefly burning into his soul

    Before they faded away

    He tells himself it was a dream and thinks nothing of it

    Oblivious to how his future would unfold

    Despite repeats of the same incident

    He continues to label it insignificant 

    Till that faithful night on the 24th

    As he lays down to get some shut-eye

    His attention is caught by an unusual sound

    One that could only be made by the most savage

    Of beasts and carried with it, a message

    And ever since, he's felt an urge that begs for a release

    Thoughts one could only describe as heinous

    All the while he feels all the more helpless as the years progress

    The eyes of which any suspicion he used to be dismissive

    Have instilled in him a different perspective

    Sunday evening on the 30th of May

    On his way to the market he meets a blonde handing out pamphlets

    He strikes up a convo and after a while persuades her into his bronco

    He takes her back to his abode for a drink or two

    Unbeknownst to her he was about to

    Make his wildest fantasies come true

    After a couple of hints that didn't go amiss

    They both lean in for a kiss 

    His fingers start a journey from her face to her throat

    He wakes up sometime later

    In a pool of entrails and vital fluid

    And that's all he can account for

    Of the first of his many crimes of murder and manslaughter
    ©the_amorist

  • questioning_life 15w

    The scent of blazing wood tickled my nose,
    All I could think of was that they know, it knows.
    It's a lose-lose situation, one I could not possibly win,
    A chocking feeling clawed its way up as I faced my sin.
    An ambient cackling rose admist my screeching thoughts,
    A figure, clocked in black, clutching two swords.
    Orange flames flickered in the reflection of the metal,
    I heard an echoing scream from the night, almost like a kettle.
    The figure strode towards me, as if it had all the time,
    If only I could trade a nickel for a dime.
    But it is too late, as the swords morphed into a scythe
    And the late night birds singed and cried.
    _____________
    As morning came the rays turned golden,
    With the celebration of the sinner who had fallen.
    The horns of hell lay on top its head,
    As the sinner give into its bloodshed.

    ©questioning_life

  • pallavi4 17w

    Sooner or later

    Sooner or later she had to wake up
    From this Snow White like slumber
    He thought to himself wondering
    If ever he could hope to rectify this blunder

    They had been fighting all evening long
    Shouting and screaming at each other
    Unafraid who could hear them outside
    Unconcerned whom they might bother

    In the heat of the moment she’d lunged at him
    And scratched his face with her nails
    He in turn pushed her towards the stairs
    Where she hit her head on the iron rails

    She slumped down and went limp
    Once he recovered from the shock he came
    To see her frail body lying in a pool of blood
    And wondered from this who exactly had gained

    Her unmoving form scared him badly
    He waited a while for her to move
    Realising she wasn’t even breathing
    He knew somehow his story he had to improve

    He knew for him there was no hope
    Nothing could save him from his fate
    If only in some way he could dispose her off
    Once in the evening it was dark and late

    So he wrapped her in a wide bed sheet
    And cleaned the blood with bleach
    Then in the dead of the night carried her out
    To make sure she would be placed out of reach

    He drove off into the night with her
    Dumped in the boot of his car
    He drove to the lake outside town
    That was comfortably safe and far

    He dragged her dead body out of the car
    And discarded her off in the lake
    Then stood there watching her drown
    Without a shred of remorse on his face

    With nerves of steel he drove back home
    Showered and got into bed
    The fact that he hadn’t taken care of the scars
    On his face never entered his head

    The next morn he was awoken by the cops
    Someone had complained about the noise
    He tried to shoo them away after telling
    Them off with grace and poise

    The scars across his face from her nails
    Never let him stand a chance
    The cops knew something was wrong
    From the very first glance

    They came back that afternoon with a warrant
    And after seeing the quiet and tranquil home
    Knew that he had something to do with his missing wife’s
    Disappearance into the unknown

    He confessed to the accidental murder
    And then the erasing of evidence later
    Meanwhile there was nothing left of the body
    In the lake because of all the gators

    Sentenced to death for the murder of his wife
    As he sat on the electric chair he wondered
    What if she had simply risen after being pushed
    He would’ve been saved from this terrible blunder

    @pallavi4

    3rd of August, 2021

    Pic credit: Pinterest, picture credited to its rightful owner

    #phrasec #phrase #sooner_or_later #stories_in_poems #love_gone_sour #murder #death #accident #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork #writerstolli #miraquill #MirakeeWorld #writersnetwork #poetry #pod #writerscommunity @miraquill

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  • czarcasm 17w

    All that's left

    Bubble of laughter that fills the air

    Almost shakes my senses

    For is it mine I truly don't know

    I can't really sense anything but the quake

    It has to be from me there's no one in this cell

    The busted mirror in my room shows I'm alone

    But am I

    The blood smeared on the walls says otherwise

    And a priest who says I'm possessed

    Blasphemy

    I am gods creature

    But the voice in my head says no longer am I

    But I am a child of the dark

    A rotten soul in this cell

    The blood on my hands tells me what I have done

    For it isn't my blood

    But the priests

    What have I done

    I realize I am the one screaming

    But there's no one coming to see what's wrong

    I've already killed everyone

    Everyone but me

    And a voice in my head tells me they're not done playing just yet

    All that's left to take is me

    All that's left-

    ©czarcasm

  • devilfish 18w

    The Devil

    What a better way for man to hide
    behind this marker modified reflection in the glass with two horns drawn on loosely
    But the very ideas they cast out to be so against were the principles that they were systematically building a legacy of lies upon
    An absolute reflection of what they saw in themselves and what they wanted to conceal from on every level possible

    To condemn generations to an eternity of sightless eyes
    Compressed between the paper hands prayers
    Paper hands burning as they stretch out to the sky in terror
    Only to fill the books with their pages
    And the martyred dry up like the ink did in their story


    Man has immobilized lies to assimilate themselves like dust in between pages containing their fitted words for you to admire their innovations
    The anger and rage that boils into my heart and out of my worried eyes
    When now to us they have lied

    But now it seems to be getting to the core of my contemplation
    and ideas become weaponized like tiny tanks as if to kill off this evil they have rid themselves of
    While they commit wrongdoings under the cloak of a false identity
    “The Devil”
    They fully diminish responsibility and protect their dark affairs they cheapen the people of their truth
    We give people a shred of truth like mangled bait
    Only to rip truth from hungry hands and consume it in a dark obscurity of history books and genocides
    The biggest robbery of all time occurred over generations
    When did we split off from our nature only to be protecting the worst parts of it while leaving the beautiful parts wither off in the sun dried petals turned to blackened ash
    and deem those with a conscience
    The eternally forgiving equally met with the eternally brutal an ocean of desperation
    An ocean of us


    ©devilfish

  • tokingbetweenthelines 19w

    *no strumpets were hurt in the writing of this story*
    #murder #kill #fiction #blood #writersofindia

    Read More

    CLIMAX

    Buxom, bouncing flesh is all I see
    in the drooling dreamy streets.
    The cars hum across,
    headlights shining on stockinged legs
    draped in thrift shop attire.
    The men stop and trade
    cash for a suck and a fuck
    and drive off.

    She's chewing gum by the light,
    in red spanks, a push up bra
    and leather boots stained in sin;
    she gives champion head,
    and she's who I want tonight.

    I grab,
    smack,
    gag,
    tie
    and take her away
    to my nowhere.

    I wake her with a slap and strip her down.
    Her eyes scream in confused fear as
    I take out my stainless steel razor blade
    and slice along the length of
    both arms and both legs,
    splitting the skin and
    painting the sand beneath her
    in throbbing red;
    her sweet muffled crying
    growing softer by the second,
    I jerk myself ferociously to
    this masterpiece of my creation;
    her pulsating blood,
    her helpless whimper,
    her rotten body torn,
    her final breath so tender,
    singing to me in her dying gasp.
    I come I come I come
    in heaving, ecstatic delight;
    I breathe in the greatest Hallelujah
    as I gaze in her lifeless eyes.

    I wipe and clean myself
    and walk away,
    with a single tear
    down my cheek.
    The sole witness
    of this divine act.

    As for her,
    I leave her bled body on the sand,
    for the crows and for the maggots,
    a feast for the heavens,
    her greatest feat.

    She was only a whore,
    no one will care.

    No one
    except for me;
    and my,
    she was lovely.
    ©tokingbetweenthelines

  • aayushi333 21w

    Honour killing

    Kisi k hasi ki waje cheen
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisi k armano ki doli jala
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kis k askho ka sagar bana
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisi k sunehre jeevan ko suna kar
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisi ka sab kuch loot
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisi nazuk Per zor dekha kar
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisi masoom k rakth se izzat ka tika laga
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Apni jhoti Shaan mein madhosh ho
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Apni ahem k aagye sab jhokh
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Apne naaz k aagye apno ko tor
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Kisne apna pyaar kurbaan kiya
    Per usse apna haq samjh
    K kya khush ho tum?
    Khair sekayat tumse bhi zada iss samaj se hai mujhe
    Jisne ahem ko tabaju aur izzat ka mol diya
    Per Isqh k sugaat ko tukra diya
    Verna aaj chhath gurudware mein
    Aur eid ka chand girjaghar mein hota
    Nafrat ki sardade nahi
    Pyaar ka makaan hota..
    -Aayushi

  • bellemoon99 21w

    Was it worth it?

    You were born with an adorable face and a lethal tongue.
    Men fell to your feet and they sang your praises.
    Walking on their skulls amused you so much!
    The red from your lips matched the stains on the floors.
    Your screams tonight let me know it wasn't. Get used to those ghosts banging on the walls.
    ©bellemoon99

  • reshma_kausar_mohideen 22w

    GRAVE OF A TRANSGENDER

    An enthusiastic gang of 'fearless four',
    Once set on an adventurous tour,
    Choosing paths, that were seldom selected,
    Exploring life in the ways most unexpected.

    They were riding through a cold forest,
    Dense and spooky, full of danger and threat,
    Ahead of which they decide to stop and rest,
    Opened bottles of wines playing games of bet.

    All of a Sudden, their eyes caught a strange sight,
    They were close to a graveyard, that cold night,
    But none was scared, rather they were excited,
    To make that night a memorable experience, they decided.

    Inebriation gradually clutched their senses,
    Pushing them into the well of offences,
    Their bad luck started enticing them, grinning,
    When the bottles of wines started fiercely spinning.

    The game of truth and dare, started with great zeal,
    Unaware were they of the treasures of graves to unseal,
    The dare was to sit near any one, place hands on it,
    Call the corpse sleeping inside, with a candle lit.

    First dare became the last one, they couldn't play any further,
    As soon as the dead body was summoned, the grave started to quiver,
    Scintillating with a strange glow, it bled profusely,
    As it wanted to speak when alive, still wishing to be heard carefully.

    A wide ring of blood was drawn, they all stood within,
    "Do not dare to move until I finish", roared the glowing coffin,
    "I did not committ suicide, I was being raped & throttled,"
    "In the train, where I used to beg, until my body got settled, "

    "Later my corpse was thrown out after enjoying my flesh,"
    "I'm still bleeding inside, wounds on my soul are still afresh,"
    "Had the females that night not thrown me out from ladies compartment,"
    "I wouldn't have entered Gent's section to fall prey to their ugly & lusty harrassment."

    "Was it my fault to be born out of the predetermined sexual domain, our society served?"
    "As never did they build loos for us, no seats for travelling were ever reserved, "
    "The life which I was granted was like the decayed filth of an old dustbin,"
    "My death was also ruined, and still my peace is being strangled, pestering my coffin."

    The grave tranquilized within minutes as if nothing ever occured,
    Leaving a big question mark on their lives, the scene faded and disappeared,
    The grave warned them to move back and never return until dead,
    For the upliftment of transgenders, NGOs by those 'fearless four', are now being led.
    ©reshma_kausar_mohideen

    *RESHMA KAUSAR MOHIDEEN*

    *INSTA HANDLE: sword_of_word_86.*

    #wod #mirakee #mirakeeworld #writersworld #writersnetwork #men #society #grave #gay #lesbian #grave #murder #plight

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    GRAVE OF A
    TRANSGENDER.


    ©reshma_kausar_mohideen

  • houseofnovice 23w

    [[Art]]

    [I made it to the news with my mates,
    for the reasons that didn't sound right.
    We used to create something
    that was music to some living at the distance
    and heresy to most around us.

    Hate, protests, and moral policing
    mixed itself to a near-lethal combination,
    hard to gulp down our throats,
    but we drank it anyhow;
    ya, it mortalised our music,
    but we survived, no matter what.

    Our melodies died the death
    to a chronic obscurity,
    and the culprits were
    the society and the customs;
    that kept us alive,
    and killed our art, forever.]

    (#art #music #moralpolicing #death #hate #society #murder #passion #hobby #mortal #protest #mirakee #miraquill #readwriteunite #writersnetwork #thelight)

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    Art

    I made it to the news with my mates,
    for the reasons that didn't sound right.
    We used to create something
    that was music to some living at the distance
    and heresy to most around us.

    Hate, protests, and moral policing
    mixed itself to a near-lethal combination,
    hard to gulp down our throats,
    but we drank it anyhow;
    ya, it mortalised our music,
    but we survived, no matter what.

    Our melodies died the death
    to a chronic obscurity,
    and the culprits were
    the society and the customs;
    that kept us alive,
    and killed our art, forever.

    ©houseofnovice

  • stevenlgoosby 24w

    Wise Eyes of a Murdered
    Sister


    Everything that has ever happened
    In your life has always been planed,

    you just may not have known

    ©stevenlgoosby