Aura begins from tongue
to spit fire and frozen rain
in the epileptic rage of insanity.

Excruciating charm of august mind
is fading.
Life wants to humiliate the sunshine
and hate desires to meet its rival in disguise.
Hope’s termination had a beginning somewhere.
I search the inky sky for a star.

The void did’t have a center
A collection of tears becomes an art.

A bit of sin here,
a grain of guilt there.
The ending of dark stairs
depends on the black walls.

Satish Verma