There was something
wrong. Yet I had not come
to my home. Trust was eroding.

Moon comes under fire.
Maskless he was stealing beauty
of earth, in freezing dark.

I had no ambition left.
Even touching the truth of
three layered lies of love.

There was something
wrong. As yet I had not come
to my home. Trust was eroding.

Moon comes under fire.
Maskless he was stealing the beauty
of earth in freezing darkness.

I had no ambition left.
Even touching the truth of
three layered lies of love.

An evil inside,
in your lives. Never done
personal language. Don't fight with god.

Why did you rip-off
the promise and push the statue
in the river of innocent pain?

Not a thing. It was
immeasurable faith of man for a
man through the image. The muse suffers.

Suspicion was insatiable
I cut my hand. Why were you
stoking the sad poems?

Like burning at stake,
the storm wears the smoke in the dark.
What was the red side of pain?

I will find another door,
which speaks the karishma. Life
has betrayed me day in and out.

Whenever I write
a poem, blood oozes out.
Why was I catching the fire?

The desire is to speak
short sentences to convey the
answer to black questions.

Slowly the empathy
works. The beautiful color of red blood
has many meanings. I said you were my blood.

In age of consent,
you want to **** yourself. But
the surveilance will watch.

Pain comes in reverse,
saying goodbye. Was it an animalism?
Your love is in heartbeats.

Whose idea was this?
Tragedy is born daily to whiten the eyes.
Milk turns black to succeed.

This poem is written
by me to humanize the animals,
capturing the heart of god.

This should be taken
as passive love. The thunder
will make a new home for you.

Fascinating. My pain
throws a light. You live your own
life near the tombs. You will never die.