Withering Flower- By Dibyasree Nandy

The white blossom wilts steadily, the petals turning blood-red;

A scarlet ripe apple rolls on the ground, half-eaten, he continues to die, unfed;

The food on the table crumbles, melting like the wax of a candle;

Purest of hearts, erasing the rotting, seeking souls, too much to handle.

The flower attracts the rampaging bees, and a mind of gold pulls in ugly deeds;

Enforcer of justice, he brings down his blade upon the predator who feeds;

As he bestows equality on those deprived, he loses a bodily shard;

Repercussions resonate, the soft, pearly petals endure, and consequences hit hard.

Only a criminal can apprehend another of its kind; stem out of the water, the flower gasps for air;

The foul spider spins… Caught, drops of crimson appear on skin fair;

Rapidly flowing river, enticing is the fluid, he wishes he could fall from the bridge;

Between innocence and sweetness, society gives birth to a ridge.

Vermillion sky like the fires he lit in the city;

He blows out smoke, sitting atop the tower in the vicinity;

Magenta tongues of flame lick the midnight moon;

The lily, now entirely carmine, shall throw himself soon.

“Let sins burn, my crimes too;

The town upside-down emerges anew.”

While the evening cools, the lunar hue coloured akin to egg-shell;

The bell resounds, the flares blue, his soundless pain a knell.

A reaper, an angel, differences none;

More sublime than puny men, the emptiness remains after a task is done;

A lone flower searing alone, the night’s sun;

Fading to ash, the land exorcised, he tosses aside his gun.