The Murder Of A Soul Poem by Nidhi Rajesh Kumari

Ain't got anything left with me
I lie torn to pieces, big and small
Eyes around me are open wide to see
How a soul is killed after all.

Ain't got a weapon of material in hand
Still they pierced death through the skin
Spreading like a poison with haste
Yet no sound heard, neither whisper nor a din.

Ain't found an evidence of suspicion
Found just an earthly body in pain
How I wished they'd see the dead inner self
And charge the assassin with a deed profane.

But, they amount to huge a number
With all having significant roles
In the savage bifurcation of God's children
And the murder of their souls.