Talking of morality abuse
and implanting of false truth...

In transit of soul,
when you were under siege...

It was middle noon
on the deserted street...

Nonchalantly
you rip the smile off...

It was like homecoming of
timber rattle snake...

A fast in hurry. you
pretend that you...

It was getting dark.
The silence starts speaking...

Sitting on the hill,
nestled against the moon...

Fixing the dignity
like a fabulous sarcophagus...

A repressed scream.
Someone breaks the head...

Do not give credence
to mundanity. An iconic...

You are not
on my page...