The Killer(s)

By Sushree Sunayana Mishra

He finds his stage in shadows’ pulse,

Each step a dance, a deadly waltz.

His blade, his muse, it sings a song,

Of a symphony of screams, hauntingly long.

With eyes as cold as winter's breath,

He paints the night with hues of dread.

A heart of stone, a crazed mind,

He bathes the earth in a crimson tide.

But wait, the truth begins to gleam,

In echoes soft, a startling theme.

Not just one, but many wear,

The killer's mask, with a hollow stare.

For who are we, with chainsaws’ hum,

Scarring the earth, till the forests numb?

With poisoned air, and waters marred,

Our legacy, a macabre card.

In creatures slain and oceans choked,

In rivers tainted, and mountains yoked,

In factories' smoke and oil spills,

Our lust will consume till nature stills.

In nature’s tomb, we hear the cries,

Of silent woods, and dying skies.

The monster revealed, it’s you, and me,

In our conquest, of earth and sea.

A blade in disguise, the human hand,

Each beating pulse, a killer's heart.

For in our greed, in our unending desire,

We fuel the flames of nature's pyre.

Coated in his prey’s blood, in the killer’s mirror,

Smiling back, we be the evil breeding butcher.

For he be plunging an innocent’s heart,

While we stab and shred our own apart.

By Sushree Sunayana Mishra