Poetry

My logic
was not a part of belief.

The answer you proffered is
not, what it was
supposed to be.

The question sits like a
butterfly on my chest.

It was a sham exercise
to wipe out the dirt from the eyes.

Life, death and the
unknowing are the failures
of man.

I am ready to repatriate
my end from the noose, for
not accepting the award.