The sad forest of dread
Crowds us with loud hatred.
Each word turns into the fang
Of a dreaded serpent
Making our senses spin.
We cover our ears and eyes
Trying to let it pass
Yet they nauseate us
Ripping us apart
Knocking at our
Knees and knuckles
Making us buckle
Knees and knuckles
Making us buckle
Telling us
Not to be over smart
But to face
But to face
The consequences of
Our action
To come out of
The sad forest of dread.
By Binita Jha
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