In coffin, sleeps, pilgrim of sin
For whom, the final faith, is fear
In his, silent cell, death’s deafening din
Is the, only truth, he’s left, to hear!
Every morning, is, new obituary
Each afternoon, a, new requiem
Every evening, funeral-not-to-be
Life is, a nightmare, death a dream!
“The kin, I nurtured, with my soul
Are all, but counting, on my death
While, sadist-state, levies, laws toll
Rendering funeral, my, every breath!”
“Who made me, a, Satanic spectacle
Is no more, a matter, of debate
A dead man, longs for, that lost cradle
Bereft of, worldly rite, of hate!”
Screams, lasting graffiti, on his tomb’s, cold walls
When, The Death Knell, Calls!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra