The Stray Who Spat On Graffitied Walls


City-streets, stink of, spent satire
Strewn o’er, its, estranged ethos
An, unquenched, sinner’s desire
Echoes, a dystopia’s, pathos!

A million miles, of, mutinies
He stares at, with a, soul aghast
“Such funeral, of, our litanies
Will never, end, to ever, last!”

“Every street, my mirror, entraps me
In all, my darkest, starkest shades”
He is, his, broken rhapsody
In a city, of, rootless renegades!

Who never diminished, he wished, them away
From now, future, and all, his recalls
He begrudged, truth, in, myth’s melee
The Stray, Who Spat, On Graffitied Walls!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra

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