Comic End

Satish Verma

The swamp was in 
boil. It was raining 
again on the open wounds. 

The scissors will 
play a dirty game. You 
divide the river 
in right and left. 

Enough was the greed 
when you follow the bun. 
After the surgery, no blood 
was left. 

I will go. 
You would sing in praise 
of coolness of water. 
It refuses to move. 

Escaped the blast, the 
sparks. You can sail 
in bottomless boat.