Theme: Life


Sitting on the heap of mortals, 
an angel failed. The world 
was not going to change. The kill 
had inspired only a naked aggression. 

Not blindfolded he took the bullet 
in heart to become a holy martyr. 
The pretention caused no ripples. 
River flowed without blood. 

A rotten tooth rolls out. 
Another smile spreads. Many headed 
cobra strikes again. The ooze tosses out 
from the broken skin. I pray for the death. 

The veil lifts. The bone of ruined 
Conscience juts out. A terrible reminder of crusade seeps in. 
What do we want from the gods of masses, 
while the time does not want to look back?


More By  :  Satish Verma

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