In Depression

Your face swims like 
a myth. 

Night spreads the veil 
of a cloud on the 
white breast of moon. 

No family. Words 
move in different tacks. 

Water heals, when 
your feet were sore. 

Soya beans. You have roasted 
them alive in jumpsuits. 
The faith becomes a devil. 

The black eye 
waits for the rain to 
wash the racial smudge.


  • FineB

    Hello satishverma,

    A powerful super write!

    Keep writing

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.