Who scattered, rosary, of sangfroid
All through, the ethos, of the wild
Where once, bloomed bliss, looks paranoid
Of the nonchalance, of a, stubborn child!
What spurred, in them, discordant art
The autumn’s, yearning, of the spring!
In every heart, a mad, Mozart
Heralds, dawn of, sin’s uprising!
With, ruffled feathers, splintered beaks,
Bleeding hearts, and, screaming souls
Their faith, is a slave, of the fear, it seeks
Who slither, and squirm, o’er smoldering coals!
This wasteland, won’t be, same again
With a, lingering alchemy’s, telltales
When fear, fathoms, a profound pain
In The Riot, Of The, Nightingales!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra