Poisoned Chalice

Exhausted but excited, the young boy returned in the vicious hour of night after flinging the slogans of his political party on the hideous walls of ghetto. The pain from police boots had escaped his consciousness and slept under his dream — the poisoned chalice: of adorning one day, the portrayal of the party. In devotion to the faux cause, he carolled the fantasy in presence of a senior comrade from party’s inner circle. Days later, another wild dreamer was overwhelmingly giving noise to the walls, the colors of young boy’s untamed soul; however, had vanished from the bloodied canvas.