By: Ria Banerjee 

The vicious tentacles of
a fatal virus
engirdles the world in a
lethal coil.
The world gasps for breath,
frantically choking, coughing and
spewing out sputum
and venom.
It is a barricaded battle field
of the living and
the dead.
Or, perhaps of the
living dead.
People go back and forth in time
to revisit another time
and space
when the world was
not invaded by
armed troops of the
multiplying virus.
Mankind is hibernating
in their houses-
practising the art of
like a sleeping serpent;
afraid to move,
dreaming of graveyards
and thriving on
the stench of
impending death.

Categories: Poetry

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