Hating To Do

To get my dues I come to your door
talking to myself
Today I will present you
my theme song in a live shooting belt.

A confined thought had
the influence fading away
It was a stark, frightful
journey to venus.

Will not tell everything
about the wounds of earth.
It was raging. You tell lies
for seeking liberation from commitments.

Trading abuses when love was lost,
the ancient tribe plays a game.
You have let me grow into a tree
standing at the dirty drain of life.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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