Futile Escapade!

Immerse your mind,

In the songs of the divine,

Run, run, while there is still left time…

The cold street,

Where the dead bodies left discrete,

Readily chopped off to meat…

The thieves have their loot,

The police on top of its boots,

Comes in the mustering squadron, to signal it hoots…

The sound came loud,

Smirched by the enemy,

For smithereens I bowed…

Captured, I moved ahead,

The place where everyone feared to tread,

Chained, enfranchised by a clog was I to behead.

Trying to escape in strife I strike,

They said to me for Treason, for Treason,

My head be put on a spike…

~ v.s