It all started when I laughed at a furless hare
for which I did not care
step by step I take
I see everything is fake
my so called bright side became darkside in reality
leaves of the great tree fell
as my surroundings looked like palace of hell
if I turn back I see a desert of thorns and bones
if I look forward, I can only hear the old witch’s mourns
O god show mercy, borrow my sorrows till tomorrow
to which I will sing the old hymn and walk
on this terrain for the last time
O losers of losers like you,
even I hoped to find the dead king’s crown
but now, sleeping in a ghost town
Only to hear the hare’s laughs
And the old witch’s coughs
As all I see is the ocean of profound
waiting to be consumed by its depths, forever drowned.
August, 2024