Poetry

Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.

Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.

Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.

To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.


Satish Verma