JUST CRIED

Do not want to foresee; 
the unknown me. On the tip 
of tongue a stunted silence with singularity 

sits. Me and my lantern burn 
in dark. Thumbs down: the compact 
seeking in failed state alters the future generation. 

A reverse pain flows out of sunken 
eyes. The perpetrator of bloodbath 
wants forgiveness from the toddlers. 

This side of a shadow, on the other bank, 
a rustic river throws up a stabbed body 
of a sailor. Another prologue for the sinking ship. 

The rats grumble, bite the dead child of 
sunlight. The sky bares the candid toys 
of velvety jinx, the robots taking over the throne.

Satish Verma