Misery sells well, in this, Sadists’ League
Gift-wrapped, in a, shroud of satire
Pain is bartered, with a, sly intrigue
In life’s, prophesied, baptism by fire!
Whose cross, who bears, until the end
Squelching thru, bad blood, sweat, and tears
Where piety, and, prejudice, transcend
The passion’s price, in faith, and fears!
Mob dreads, the most, a solitary man
Who sees, beyond, its banality
How hideous, is this, ‘martyrs’’ clan
Whose ends, decide, means’ rationality!
How your quest, became, its vain conquest
You, the doormat, of its conviction
Shouldn’t, God lose in, Satan’s slugfest
In Your Fall, Finds World, Its Redemption!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra