Poezja

It was fear and anguish. 
You were talking about evil. Returning 
evil to evildoer. I touch your psyche. 
I am not happy. Some thing is burning inside. 
Dehumanizing the death? Betraying the muse of god? 
 
The ending fo hidden mist and sick bedrooms, 
I am counting the parameters. There is a moral pride 
in humane slaughter and annexing the smile. 
 
Sun is again coming under eclipse. Light is 
growing fainter. I am again afraid of darkness. 
Night of shadows and running midgets. They 
prolong the agony. I turn towards the earth 
for the impromptu music of life.