Crazy Thoughts

Satish Verma

A blighted ovum 
demands a ransom for life. 
Unhinged, you rub with― 
the command and 
set free a poem. 

Some very visceral fears 
hold your hand and 
ask to write an epitaph 
of yourself. 

Unboiling the egg in 
irreverent manner, you 
proceed to make death, 
out of eternal entangled questions. 

The sheer stress unmakes 
you into a creator 
and you begin to spawn 
a new religion of violence.