ayanchakraborty250
- Jul 5, 2022
- 1 min read

Blasphemous

Coup de force

by fire of some fists, looking

below a pair of stingy lips into

trials thrown at

old, bending knees; newer minds

donning corselets against a bog of doubts

where

a few moves snicker and swirl through cenotaphs of festering truth

swilled out with red under daylight.

The spot of trouble decays with mourning

and neatly tuned tomes stale fear in your vicious latte cups.

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