The River

By MAYANK SAHU

It's a river of blood
meandering downstream,
carrying few corpses
and many a failed dream,
the water of this river
darker than evil spirit,
and the fountain not so fresh
one that feeds it so discreet.
The river swells as it flows
with more corpses to its load,
its water running darker
than the darkest clot on board.
The meandering flow and slow ride,
neither high nor ebb with daily tide,
lacking any good attempt to hide
while the old cunning supreme Fate smiled.
The river banks, awashed with waters
of the silent torment in Death's matters,
as the ravaged Life takes its last breath,
Floats to the top- mortal hopes in tatters.