Secret withheld

Butterflies are smug.  

Fighter jets resting on a carrier.

I disturb their stupor 

Kill them all 

by simple teasing 

They are followed 

by ants 

and a swarm of flies

tempted first 

to the scattered jaggery. 

Insects were my first victims. 

Many summers later 

when I thought 

I am a grown up

They sent a young beetle after me.

A suicide bomber packed up

brain washed and all that.

He entered my ear

in a protective gear.

Chewed on the insides 

like a withheld secret. 

Hot oil and water jets 

didn't matter to  him. 

He was on a deep sea mission. 

The whole village was awake

with the screams that night. 

And its ear still rings

of the lore 

of such and such a boy.