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Harshit Verma Poem
You wake up in the morning
Opening your eyes while yawning
You find yourself where you were not last night,
That’s when your senses start to fight,
Seeing those faces cry which you haven’t seen before
For the traps are lurking behind each door,
You start asking the reason
For your presence in such a prison,
They don’t tell you much but scare you with their acquaintance
Of the possible serial killer behind such a disturbance,
You find a tape recorder under the carpet
Listening to which you all are set,
Yes, it was him telling the rules of the game,
Transgression of which if forward came,
You will be winning a deadly chance to meet death
Or else to be safe you should play having faith,
In the chances of survival that are rare,
and reason for the game lies in what common you all share,
There are not only traps but also chances.
And rare are the places where death itself dances,
You have poison running in your veins
Which will be robbing you out of your sense,
To which only he has the antidote,
Now start consuming the time you’ve got,
Which is getting finished every moment,
Do it till you further can’t,
There are no promises that you’d survive,
No matter how hard you’d try to stay alive,
It’s the game that began on his call
But would end with you after all.
Copyright © Harshit Verma | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Harshit Verma Poem
Whether you believe in ghost or not
But still he is waiting for you the most
He is waiting for you in your room
To offer you a place in doom
You shall do nothing but fear
Because he is always near
He will always be there to scare
And you don’t ever try to dare
Never try to find out about his presence
As deeper you search it goes dense
He is coming to hold you
No need for him to say boo at you
His increasing steps are enough influential
To make your fears absolutely real
He is always at you staring
With his intention of sharing
With you his past life pain
And to provide you the same
There is no vestige of him you can record
But his existence is as real as of God
Weapons you have don’t really matter
As sooner or later your hopes will be shattered
He is like a shadow of death
Don’t even think of him as a myth
No one knows how long would he stay
Or may follow you all the way
Till the time you are breathing
In the air of hellish life you are leading
He is controlling every moment of your life
He is such a mystery
That would travel to disturb your dynasty
The time you would spend on him to solve
You will find yourself dissolved
In the ocean full of webs
From getting out of where there are no maps
He is closing all escaping gates
And there is little time left before your life terminates.
Copyright © Harshit Verma | Year Posted 2013
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