Of different Deaths…

Rajarshi says: To all those died a brutal death for the sake of…love? No, for what they wished to believe but the world is not for those who wish to believe.

His maiden did not turn sixteen that day,
The headless lover silently broods.
The tower strikes twelve,
The silhouettes of leaves play their silent game on his headless body,
As plods through the voids of the night street,
The promise of love wafts,
Reminiscent of wildwood fays.
But the tower is relentless,
It now strikes ten…

The lover is now seated,
His body oozing bloody tears,

Ha, tears…
So many were shed on the black stallion’s night,
But the stallion had a rider, who had no mercy,
His maiden is now asleep,
He has lost his head.

The lover’s tears invokes another hero,
The yew trees shade him today,
Odin’s curse could not relieve him that day,
The tower strikes eight.
He crushed the thorny rose to fill his pen,
He wrote a bloody lyric.
He crouched, he cringed, he yelled out in pain,
But none was there to answer.

Only footsteps…
The tap-tap of a victory dance,
The dance of a carnivorous damsel,
The blessed damsel all in white,
Her grinning canines unfurled tales within,
Tales of deceit and laughter…

The hero cringes further…
The clock strikes twelve.