Poems by

A Title-less Crappy Poem

a poem by Aditya

Men have traversed the holy ground,
Scattering pebbles as they wound,
Through the mazes, paths in which they found,
Only to land up in the burning mound,
Faces covered, ashened and round,
Selling their souls for a mere pound,
To hear the sweet rendering,
Of my poetry in sound!

~ Sorry for the crappy poem, but you asked for it!