Masks
artwork by sabyasachi hazra
Masks of many mouldsRotting in the newly serviced temperature level of the old air conditioning units
She wears the mask from her forgotten drawer
It itches, burns and finally bites her
Stuck on her surrendering skin
The old herbs turn violent
Her layers flake off in a rush
Burnt and bitter
She thumps and thuds,
Huffs and puffs
Price paid,
for diluting dead years
Into the new potion of newer pretenses.
The whole world looks away.
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