Prabhukrishna M

“Blood that was warm has now run cold
bled every day have hearts become old
Telling I am the story of my past
and of the ghosts at which it is aghast

Life as a child was a wonderful rhapsody
Free from the fetters of rational prosody
Naively making brute reality a parody
Revelling in a soul filled with life's melody

Poverty struck and child became destitute
wailing and whimpering like a wretched prostitute
Of pleasure and pain does a society constitute
for Man is not for God to substitute

Life is a parody of paradoxical Irony
Fate rules not without a touch of Tyranny
While the rich belch on their goblets of honey
the wretched etch on the tablets of agony”
― Prabhukrishna M