There was thunder in the hut <br />teeth clattered under the ground. <br />Handcuffed you walk in inequality <br />to qualify for hanging till dead. <br />I may not tell myself <br />what was happening to me. <br /> <br />Moving in opposite direction <br />the bird was able to catch the smell. <br />My stance was always making a stroke <br />in the canvas of a tormentor <br />abbreviated in a muscular arm <br />starting violences of sleep. <br /> <br />Corralled in doorframes, keeping <br />the lights off, this was the nemesis <br />for asking for the change. Haungered, the <br />human being, absorbed by the <br />absence of chains which were not <br />coming in sight. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />*On the fate of Kanu Sanyal, founder of naxalite movement, who hanged himself to death on 23th March 2010.<br /><br />Satish Verma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/depression-100/
