Draconian claws of yesteryear horror
slowly crawled back in her life
and like the shadows of some silhouette nights
it crept inch by inch
covering her velvety skin
with the charcoal soot of the past yore

Her hollow eyes lay insentient
blurred with the error of cracked dreams
and the gore of her shattered hope
gushed in abundance
painting her countenance pale

Faith was sucked out of her soul
and all that remained was a cold quiescent azoic
will she ever revive?
maybe, if she could break the mold
to escape the fright of past
drawing a moat or a fosse
around her deviant heart

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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