The True World
Poem By kaustubh tilve
A rapid watershed aroused due to our desire.
Some living affluently others surviving the cold fire.
The plutocratics, hovering like ghosts tentalising the below par.
Amidst a million, than may immerge a heroic star.
He will also get rust due to this currupt weather.
His benevolent nature will also be sealed with few contented moments to gather.
Thraldom inhumanity the world shall face its darkest hour.
Frightened each will speculate earth's demise very scour.
Not revolted now, than on our corpse's would be wreath.
As we all would perish, with that sweet kiss of death.