By: Kousik Adhikari

The poisoned words of my heart,
Play like my foster children,
Till without memory, just sprouted teeth,
They always seeks a true cover
After escaping easy childhood… youth,
I notice their rustling youth
With bitter eyes,
Now the gang of mad youths
Will splash, spend
My desired corpse,
Like an inevitable trouble
I dress and decorate myself
Every morning in necessary waiting.