Black Woe

Where there is smoke there is fire Beneath a politician enjoys a liar   A black friend yesterday asked Why vehicles prefer black tyre? Drag them to death is 'white order', Or else for filth for a penny hire If the white puts on, gets a smile Why on me ashames his attire? Black is night, so is nightingale A lotus but grows only in mire Ego is red, echo but colourless Colours all lose lustre on pyre Smoke and sin serves whome A speck are all in divine gyre Where there is smoke there is fire In every seller lives a brutal buyer.