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Veiled World

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World Poetry Day 21 March amidst the abyss of death I breathe in the aroma of life , engulfed in the fire of wrath drenching in the flood of strife. animosity bleeds within my soul wherein my heart screeches for feelings untold . rage shrouds my living corpse as hatred paves it's path through my veins. It's with great sorrow that I now pen down this tattle tale the dogma of this cursed society encased in holy grail . I ponder over the past memoirs of the strangled soul smirking at the impending doom that has never been fortold. A mirth musing my monstrous heart painting it matte black as I do the tedious yet joyous task of adorning my hands with red. the shackles of dreaded memories ashed into the ground. As a phoenix I now rise having my lost self found. Ringing the devil's knell grinning at the plotted ploy mercy shall be a forgotten word for blood shall quench my thirsted sword . Oh! don't you be worried I shall gift you the slowest death For you killed me a thousand times bit by bit my soul was fed . Don't you remember I cried out loud screaming a scream that shivered the spine yet you shattered my frail self into a gazillion pieces laughing each time . To rewrite the history I shall paint it again with the life of yours time shall remember this day when a victim became a lifeless soul and committed a crime And I shall let this monstrosity breathe in me as I now take the obvious step and the satan shall rest in me as I turn the vision of your begging for death. and trust me I'll forgive you just when doom looks you in the eye and takes back the advanced step. Satan's spawn.

World Poetry Day 21 March amidst the abyss of death I breathe in the aroma of life , engulfed in the fire of wrath drenching in the flood of strife. animosity bleeds within my soul wherein my heart screeches for feelings untold . rage shrouds my living corpse as hatred paves it's path through my veins. It's with great sorrow that I now pen down this tattle tale the dogma of this cursed society encased in holy grail . I ponder over the past memoirs of the strangled soul smirking at the impending doom that has never been fortold. A mirth musing my monstrous heart painting it matte black as I do the tedious yet joyous task of adorning my hands with red. the shackles of dreaded memories ashed into the ground. As a phoenix I now rise having my lost self found. Ringing the devil's knell grinning at the plotted ploy mercy shall be a forgotten word for blood shall quench my thirsted sword . Oh! don't you be worried I shall gift you the slowest death For you killed me a thousand times bit by bit my soul was fed . Don't you remember I cried out loud screaming a scream that shivered the spine yet you shattered my frail self into a gazillion pieces laughing each time . To rewrite the history I shall paint it again with the life of yours time shall remember this day when a victim became a lifeless soul and committed a crime And I shall let this monstrosity breathe in me as I now take the obvious step and the satan shall rest in me as I turn the vision of your begging for death. and trust me I'll forgive you just when doom looks you in the eye and takes back the advanced step. Satan's spawn.

B.L Parihar

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“है उसे दूर का सफ़र दरपेश, हम सँभाले नहीं सँभलते हैं, तुम बनो रँग, तुम बनो ख़ुशबू, हम तो अपने सुख़न में ढ़लते हैं..!” #John...

“है उसे दूर का सफ़र दरपेश, हम सँभाले नहीं सँभलते हैं, तुम बनो रँग, तुम बनो ख़ुशबू, हम तो अपने सुख़न में ढ़लते हैं..!” #John...