The one who knows all definitions,
Is the one Webster who wove it all,
But the Webster spun it so wicked.
Knew the Webster about negatives,
Allowed them to seep everywhere,
Provided not a one stop solution.
That is why people die of bullets,
They perish of many grievances,
Unable to bear the load they are.
No matter which the district,
Whatever may be the town,
Whichever be the parish.
Disciples and toppers,
Students and scholars,
They all come to perish.
My HP Poem #1094
©Atul Kaushal