Dreams are beliefs, which stray, awake
In, blinded phantoms, searching eyes
Who dwell, in mortar cells, and make
Castles of sand, and fog, with lies!
Who needs, the stars, in dazzling fests
Why spare, a glance at, banal moon!
All souls, who lost their, sin-conquests
In drunken orgies, sigh and swoon!
The endless, maze of, scrambled streets
Lead vagabonds, to, reach nowhere
At each crossing, new stranger, meets
Its old self, with a, cynical stare!
Who breathe miasma, grow on, quicksand
Are parasites, euphemized, “socialites”
Fear reaps, nightmares in, faith’s wasteland
In The, Darker Shades, Of City Lights!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra