Sadistic, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

Sadistic

Violence is like a rush,

That cascades through a system,

With a brutish touch,

Wreaking havoc as it siphons downwards.

 

And with every bout of fisticuffs,

Comes a somber silence of true devout fools.

 

Head upheld to the celestial,

And clouds encircling their prey,

For even the sky is an utter brute,

And the stars are its nighttime grenades.

 

And with every jab of a knife,

Comes the harbingers of sensational news.

 

On the television, there is outcry.

The people roam the streets, slaves to terror,

Zombies in pure unfathomable brain rot,

And most of all, humans.

 

And with every Icarus,

The building of fences commences.

 

Up go the barriers,

Proud and tall like kings,

For they are on thrones incarnadine,

Crimson crowns adorning their heads.

 

And there’s a screaming crowd

Behind every wicked fight.

 

And there’s loving fans

Fueling the flames of rivalry.

 

And there’s bright dollar bills

Crushed underfoot by wrestlers.

 

And there’s an irony to it all,

Beaten to death by hypocrites.

 

And there’s those who do it for the thrill,

Of glitz, glamor, and of course fervor.

 

And there’s the ringing of the bell, but the fight’s never over, is it?