EXILED

I threw myself in deep slumber 
pledging not to play the game 
for others and exiled myself within me 
after the rebellion. 

A realized being, suffers 
at the hand of a thorn skull, 
learns to be silent, choking on words 
across the pages which are blank. 

Immeasurable limits of space and senses 
start a hierarchy which will breed contempt. 
There was a memory, a suffering of absurdism 
I am still caged in. 

The kingdom collapses in brilliance of sun, 
the man starts another version of hate. 
Acquires the blood of royal vein 
and promises to become a beautiful cadaver.

Satish Verma