Ouch

 

It could last few more days,

May be weeks

Or few years

Or some decades.

Your magic can work.

You can pile up the heaps of wealth

And increase your coffers.

We have blood running
And rummaging through our veins
And it could appease your thirst
still for some decades.
But one day,
And that day will be the day
Like an ordinary day
The sun in the sky
The clouds hovering leisurely
Wind blowing sometime cold
And sometime warm
The birds in the sky
Twittering to teach the nestlings
To pick the music of life
That day, our tired bones will
Will weave a cage for you
To encage your spirit
Your neck will be in our hands
and
The noose will be tightened
So hard around it
That you will not be given
A whiff of air to
Breathe.
Your lungs will be made
Forget to expand.
That day, will come
Surely that will be the day.
The evening will be golden
the morning glorious.
The birds will sing for us.
You know what it means.