Echoes of the Sterile Abyss
White walls weep Antiseptic beads, sterile, unstained. Hippocrates gnashes bone against earth, His ancient oath splintering in its tomb. Staccato heartbeats On cracked monitors Tick, tick, tick— Then silence— The flat-line of existence. Corridors twist— Escherian nightmare, Where healers— Ah, the healers! Are hunted like prey In a sterile jungle. Power's labyrinth— Minotaurs of mercy with iron in their gaze, Their hands clean, Yet cruelty seeps from every pore, Feasting on innocence. Trust: a currency devalued, Hope: a luxury taxed. In closets of shame, Skeletons waltz with fresh corpses. Nightingales sing requiems For their fallen sisters— (Who will hear? Who will care?) Society's bones—brittle, porous— Snap under the weight of silence. Justice: blindfolded, gagged, bound In red tape and white lies. The girl? Fragmented Like this verse, Pieces swept under sterilized rugs. April's promise of renewal Ah! A harsh veneer, When August in Bengal strips it bare, Revealing oaths d