My shadow lurks behind me
On a crooked plain I tread
On a crooked plain I tread
Nailed prophet oozes blood
Accursed wounds refuse to heal
My heart morphed into plastic toy
Incessantly beats the shit out of
Every vessel that leads to its chamber.
Author: monami mukherjee
Poet, Blogger, Undergrad Professor. Literature and film enthusiast. Excited about both critical and creative writing.