As I compile these thoughts tonight,
I want you to stare at this hideous sight.
Agony will surround you, as the smell of his blood
Diffuses within the air and enters your nose.
He was the first; impregnated with perpetual desire.
Ghastly looks, unmeasured wants and cruel, indeed.
I cut both his hands and watched the blood write
Down my testimony “raison de faire: greed”
Her head hurt, a sword piercing through it.
She’d be sipping tea if she were to hallucinate.
Her tears bled from her spear-torn eyes.
A spear penetrating her vision, her lies.
She was second on my list, or rather God’s;
I found solace in justice, no rewards.
A song of God’s Voice and Lies beautified
Every drop of blood that washed away her pride.
An arrow through his eyes,
A red stream flows as he cries.
I pushed a knife in his gut, reaching extremis;
I shamelessly cut off his lust along with his p*nis.
The lights down low and nicotine in the air,
‘A night with all or so’, the third one would crave.
His filth flowed like his blood down the sewer;
He’d sleep and then used a whip to bruise her.
The fourth one was the easiest to bring to justice,
Just to avoid movement, he would drown in his own p*ss.
I found him in a pub and covered his face with a cloth,
I cut him in half and boiled him with his natural sloth.
She wore a cloth around her tender parts,
This was the vehicle she required to start
Her sin of trying to steal her sister’s fame,
I slaughtered her enough to make her more than just lame.
The fifth sin I punished was the most vicious of all,
She rooted her nails and tried to bring down the tall.
I could see the fire in her eyes, already killing her,
With a dagger of envy, I left her blood sore.
He couldn’t sit in his own chair,
Yet overeating he did dare.
It was easy to hide a small knife in his pie.
I sang a song whilst his soul left him to die.
My sixth piece of the puzzle was disgusting.
He could consume sweet, sour or even an iron rod rusting.
The knife entered his throat, started a mutiny.
He committed my least favourite sin: gluttony.
I carried all this out in spite;
Albeit just, none of it was ethically right.
A bolt of thunder jolted in the grey sky,
“Kill me for my wrath,” I cried.
Ultima pars fixed by God himself,
A book on me now rests in his shelf.
I committed the last sin; for me, justice.
My death brought me joy and eternal bliss.
~Tanishq Khurana, Class-12, DPS RK Puram
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