A Long Road

Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears―
like pine needles,
prick the toes in walk.

You cannot―
collect the white roses
in blue rains.

You remember precisely, a toothless―
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.

The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.

You start drawing vultures.

Satish Verma