scorpion

my wrist was the 

place where some 

scorpion bit and

bred its home,

as if this slum had

sensed how to sit

still in sins and salts,

they all can trace 

the shape of heart it

carved while sipping 

my burning red serum,

well, i too skipped even 

my beautiful beats of

life but i was straining 

pain out of this force,

the scorpion finally

rested its soul, but

beneath my slowly 

shattered shells,

no one could know

for whom to mourn,

because they all can 

never ever endure,

i was that poison's

perennial source.

- chetna 🌻