visceral

Visceral remains

That metal band sang about,
the remnants of memory.
A part of imagination,
Incapable of explanation.

They missed out though.
Really? I don’t know.
On delving into details.
Of our mechanical bodies.

Above the truth and beneath the lie.
Between moments of high and dry.
Become reality; what were mere games.
And we’re left with visceral remains.

Varun Rajagopalan.

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