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.
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