Dot maketh a man blind, beware of the outcome
’tis a drought, fandangle dingus
maketh a relationship, acerbic as rum
’tis not an espousal, ’tis a fungus.
© Rishabh Parmar
Humans, worshippers of everything
Gods, demons or a fane
find occurrences to dance, and sing
a merry song written by the bride that is dead.
Laud the groom for his kingly stratagem
thou art foolish, methinks
thine foolishness will ingest the mankind
in no time, entire world will shrink.
Dot indites a mephitic story
expounds its frail glory.