Dirty Mirrors

Life may mean anything to you, but 
I refuse, to become a utility. 
Come, let us face the death of time. 

We were whisked away, 
had taken a wrong turn, 
and when battle lines were drawn, 
the guns were not ready. 

Dirty mirrors always complained of a bad weather. 
Today I will go for a long journey, 
to get the gifts of peacocks from green trees. 
I want to listen to their grievances whole night. 

Humanity stinks when infected hands 
handle the peace. I splash the truth 
on your face, 
to see the sun clearly.

Satish Verma