Could there, be a, grander sedition
Than a truth, that dares, to bare a régime
Convicted for, its conviction
So be it – the fate of, freedom’s dream!

The moth, who flirts, with inferno
Is not, the one, who exudes fear
Ask the blaze, ‘if it does not know’
“Who storms your soul? A ‘nothing’ mutineer!”

Do shoot messenger, for you can
But graffitis, of his, riotous gore
Will herald, from streets, rising’s élan
For a, martyr seeds, martyrs galore!

How sweet, could sound, her cynical song
Truth is furor, when unfettered
Those who, kill their ethos, all along
Don’t dither, To Kill A Mocking Bird…!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra