Poetry Collection by Prabhat Verma
My poetry is not an opinion expressed. It is a song which either arises from a bleeding wound, or from a smiling face.


Enter the free world, where you and I dwell,
Where killing is not a crime and nudity does sell.
Living in the same world, both you and I,
Violence we all despise, same tears all cry.

Yet we are different, separate lives we live,
Some live in pain, others live in bliss.
Few born with silver spoons, with world at their feet,
Others born to destitute, broken men indeed.

See through a billion eyes, the world around you, Things, good for some, bad for the rest, evil we all do.
Some say praise the lord, others do it in the name of God,
We are same you and I, born alike, alike shall we die.

Its only the journey from life to death,
We try to achieve things, people we try to impress,
Falling for all comforts and pain, running away from pain,
Can we take it all to heaven? Is there any gain?

But there is something we want to get, endless search,
Pecuniary illness breeds paucity of values, we hate dearth. Imperfect, in the ghoulish world, harried with morbid thoughts I pray'
For my journey to end with the ending day, never to come again this way.


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