By Priyankar De
Calling everytime, Life is Hell!
Never thought gonna really smell,
The smoke of the dungeon drain,
Because that’s what my gift of gain.
Yes! It was sour,
It was my intention to pour,
As every moment philosophies taught,
Dreams should be chased and caught,
Or else nought, as you are naught.
But even if deportments are good,
And gauges high but co-op hood,
Only rewarded to be rood.
So here l am set by rhadamanthine,
That led obituaries out for mine.
Preparations now through sotto,
To prevail peace and now an otto
stick releasing scent near my photo,
That invites fresh new cordo.
Priyankar is currently pursuing M.A in English Literature and Language from the University of Calcutta. Poetry is his hobby.