Autopsy

By Bhavya Srivastava

A boy so young

With irony of the T-shirt that said ‘Living Every Moment’

Rigid on the table, no snore no reason

Head with thick black waves

Eyes stitched

No pain

The body inspected for injuries and bruise

The skin stripped, organs removed and weighed

Stomach tied, for poisonous contents to be identified

But the clot in the vessel gave the conclusion that was it wasn’t some devil’s play

His heart had failed, even though he was young and brave

The cavity now empty was crammed and rammed with the pieces of organs left

In no order and without God’s anatomical design

Cause once you die there’s nothingness that never subsides 

Stitched back up, the body and the face

Stitches so concealed, there was no telling that just moments ago there was ripping and shelling

That wasn’t the end though

There was a more difficult task

The doctor had to tell the boy’s father, it was the heart

By Bhavya Srivastava