Merak Magazine

At The End

Trapped amidst towering pernicious trees,

Skin soaked and bone burnt,

Dribbling saliva down his chin,

Hollowed and cursed, he waits.

Trembling legs and clenched fist,

Stung eyes cannot mind the mist.

Leaves, odiously green, twist and twirl,

Coursing and stretching out it’s coiled claws.

Weeping, the cowering clay cringes away.

Muddy mounds prod and shove,

Nails snapping, toes slipping

he pleads and prays for forfeited deliverance.

Split and snarl, the branches threaten,

Fangs ravenous and inching to strike.

Blighted insects, hissing and seething,

blister and pinch prissy bottoms.

Tracing fatal trails on the ground,

Sizzling water and rain celebrate redemption,

Rewarding punishments long due.

The wretched stream screams it’s way around,

Gushing out agonies, singing elegies.

Clapping thunders and blinding lightening

smother and quell his hoarse breath.

Shuddering hands reach out one last time

Only to be slapped away by the baleful wind

Azra Wazeer
Azra Wazeer
Articles: 491

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