It was congested

That dark room.

A woman, sat over there

Her face camouflaged

Her body numb

Her heart lifeless.

She started bleeding off her tears,

                    Hearing her own breath

Feeling her fading pulse.

She heard a noise, a knock!

The door was locked

She didn’t move, yet something drew

Itself inside.

A spirit may be

‘The spirit of her own past’

Said the voices of the unknown.

By:

Merin Varghese