Theme: Life


Asphyxiated by curled hands,
Punishment for tainted moon, 
it has floated down to 
darker side of continence. 

You push the body in wall, 
Coal burns in the eyes. 
The shadow at last, leaves the body. 

The high priest, goes for the copyright 
and nerves explode in the books for 
annular bulge of pride. 

A simile was needed for a grain of sand 
by cutting your wrists 
and pouring the blood on the knives.


More By  :  Satish Verma

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