Red Craze-by Dibyasree Nandy

The monstrosity within him threatens to swallow, bite;

He pushes it back inside, and the butterflies on his robes burn with fiery light;

Winged creatures, golden, released into the loathsome world;

The rhythm of the beating feathers spread through in a swirl;

Silver anger, as vast as the sky seen from the airborne ship;

He places his hands on his exposed chest, and his grudges flip.

"Why wasn't I run through with a blade?" Green eyes ablaze;

"Why was I chosen to live?" His red craze;

The vessel flies over the filth of the city of mist;

Where slobbering men, with hands slimy, gorge upon the feast;

Sitting on the corpses of many, they've reached great heights;

Yet not as high as him; a human, demon, deity, winner of fights.

Sadness etched upon his pupils, a witness of patricide;

He contemplated death, but who shall purge this land, commit homicide?

"If good men are not gifted with a lease upon life;

Then who but I shall turn evil, prepared for strife?"

At times, the demon descends, passing under the bridge in a house-boat;

The fortress hiding the devils of the town, surrounded by a moat;

Swaying willows he sees, people passing by, shops with lanterns aglow;

The tides of the stream, decked with petals mauve, flow;

So many men, women, children, and lilies soaked in blood;

The foul, rotting stench; disgusting are the seasons that flood.

Trying to recall the beauty, he plays a song at dusk and dawn;

Only notes of utter blackness produced from his fingers, his own requiem, mien drawn. 

#Day2 #Red