One Of Many Thoughts Poem by Satish Verma

Nobody was bigger than
your destination, you
were obsessed with the birth
of a new caste.

I was very angry
at me, to be myself.

We will not
meet at one dot
of separatism.

The arousal upsets
the mongrels. The wagging
starts liberally.

We will not exclude
the romance of delusion,
while interpreting the spirit
of the book.

Living by yourself
the inadequacy will
indulge in self adoration.

Where will I go?