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Conflicted Millennials and Unheard Antagonists! 


Anindya Arif


You are too average 

To throw around words 

Like depression or molestation. 

So you keep staring 

At your lousy green bedroom walls 

For them to keep reminding you 

Why everything that was ever done to you 

Is justifiable in one way or other. 

Seven windows from yours 

Resides a man who spends his days, 

Watching transparent glasses 

Being filled with orange soda. 

He slowly adds three salted ice cubes 

Which slowly fizz out with a distinctive odour. 

In the distance 

Two millennials argue 

Why the soda feels purple 

And why the odour makes them nervous. 

Soon the ice melts into orange fragments, 

As the millennials keep arguing. 

The walls have now consumed what was left of you, 

While the millennials keep arguing 

Over the purplish nature of the soda. 

You slowly give in 

To their pessimistic arguments, 

On why purple represents 

Slow death and self-inflicted abuse. 

In an alternative re-telling of a similar story, 

The millennials felt too exhausted to argue 

And the man drank from a technicolored glass. 

In this re-telling 

He cried in seven different pitches 

Which made the millennials alcoholics. 

Years later someone down the same street 

Recalls your story 

Of a drunken man 

With two derailed millennials 

Arguing over a suicidal corpse. 

I have now stopped paying attention to it 

The narrator makes me feel vulnerable 

And the purplish odour makes me want to throw up. 

Now and then I try to listen 

With an increasing vulnerability. 

I will give up soon 

But for now 

As the narrator narrates your death scene. 

I reposition myself to scream. 

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