Why Roots are Dying?

My descendents would
be my poems to see the mad world
and complain to the unknown almighty.

When I walk on the
cinders, your flames would be faithful.
Words have become immigrants.

The spectators want to
shut their eyes. Curare will take the
responsibility to clean the floor.

Future appears bleak. Words fail to describe the atrocities of the day. People are nonchalant. Many will be killed with poison being spread everywhere. Roots of a civilization are dying.

Rajendra Singh Baisthakur , Nellore, AP, 524003