In solemn consciousness,
I wanted to know, why
the shroud was white―
after the abandonment?
Peace or was it a surrender?
Is it the passive victory?
Are we betraying ourselves
in the reign of violence?
Reviving the cult of
collective suicides, I will
take more sins, wearing
the feather-crown.
Going for a black
hole from abattoir, still
dazed, I am leaving all
the question marks on your chest.
Do you know how
to tell the doomed fall?