The Devil's Whisper

He spread the fields of his life

to be furrowed

by the plows of time.

The atrocious truths
turn toxic!

Famine passed by,

left a groove.
The days of humiliation passed by,

left a groove.
Grief passed by,

left a groove.
- Fossilized centipedes

imprinted

on the wide forehead.

The hollow depression

of the eyes, casts a dark shadow

on the sunken cheeks.
The sunburnt skin

knitted

around the grim, taut mouth

conceals an epic

behind the imposed silence.

He lingers

to trace an echo

of the devil’s whisper.