Final Distortion

It was all the time who told me

    To sit back and see

How to win the Zeal, without profanity but,

    Only with the given opportunity;

To endure, to embrace,

    To discern and to decept;

Hard to believe if someone is so perfect,

    Profound, professed and as if totally impressed.

None ever knew at the furthest,

    I would be actually a bait, who was made to wait;

Blown, smashed, kicked and tricked,

    My blood just turned to asphalt at this extortion,

Now the time is laughing, seeing at this final distortion.

    Damn!

Quavering Poet Suhas

9^th April ’08.