7. Poem by Sparsh Jain

She is gone and the poetry began,
The unrest convened and the self-critical trials begun.
Everything is hay, can't you hear the sound?
Strong, Manipulative yet profound.

Speakers producing static, Making moxies converge
On the very temple of the mere mortal.
Down with agony and deeply fagged,
He may make some rhyme at the last.

Love is been confusing him since,
When life was young and the voids were to be filled.
Beauty of love drowned in lust,
With nothing to say, only thirst.

Now almost this brain is gunk,
Wires twisted and conscious; drunk.
It encountered you again with quite a mock surprise,
Making you weep under the clear blue sky.

From the smart kid to the hollow nature,
There is nothing much now to adhere.
Life gives you lessons again,
But this time you take them anyway.