Written by Asish Sridhar
Edited by Illakhiya
Illustrated by Ananya Prabhakar
A slice of the liver or a bare-handed choke,
A castration or framing with the rope.
Musty, red, reeking pages
Filled with my sacrileges.
Warm flesh, a sight to squeal,
A new victim, a new deal.
A few Benjis won’t stop me,
So save your energy and your pleas.
That’s a pretty face you have, let me tear it apart,
Then I’ll dissolve your body in a cart.
Or maybe I can wear it and feel like you,
And do a dance in your shoes.
But soon, your mask peels away,
And I am not anymore that queen who slays.
Dear diary, store my pain, my fears,
The voices that praise me, the cheers.
The good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly, and the sad,
I relinquish my feelings to you because nobody can understand me true.
Buried away deep within, my feelings ever flowing.
Like the blood that runs off my arm and is absorbed into this book, seeping.
Once more I turn the page, another look, a peeping.
Their innocent, pure faces,
A sight when they realise that there’ll be no traces,
Nowhere to hide, no empty spaces.
A store for my dreams, my little pleasures,
A place to hide in my leisure.
Can somebody stop me?
My life, my love, a thousand years of punishment from above.
Won’t somebody stop me?
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