Lock— Day Twelve of NaPoWriMo

They’ve come for a show,
Eyes – a thousand of them.
To watch me writhe and squirm.
They’ve come for my end.

Called for a talent show,
Made it into witch hunt.
To see who falls
And dies first.

Locked and chained,
I begin to dance.
Blinded by the fire
They grasp in their hands.
Searing my skin, one by one,
I feel the flames on my face.
They scream in disgust,
They laugh at my pain.

My legs tremble,
I still waltz.
This is my creation.
This is my art.

My foot catches
The end of the chains.
I stumble and stop.
The crowd grows silent.
I back into the cage
Eyes darting left to right
Sprouting fire of my rage,
I hear screams erupt outside.

I melt the shackles,
Dart and take the flight.
All they see are wings with
Burnt feathers in the sky.
For now the art I create
Shall be etched with my own love.
I dance to please myself,
Or else, no one.


— Written by Anushka Shrivastava for MTTN

Featured Image by Shraddha Jathan

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