He was not comfortable with his own words
to design a whole self,
which was a complete truth.
in order to be happy under a writing spell.
The fake men, twisted crowds,
inverted psyche, and psychopaths
were casting a powerful clout
on the primitive instincts.
Could not fight against their own fierce thoughts
indulging in prognosis of exiled fates
resting on their ethos,
they exhumed the body of a god.
Shadows were rising form the moist past
between the ruins of ethics
silence, into which they buried
their faces and links.
They won their claim to die ignominously,
to leave a trail of blood on dirt roads.
Our country was making a tremendous rise,
Icicles were melting, rivers were shrinking.
SATISH VERMA
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