Beelzebub's slave

In the light of mirth or morose
He stays ablaze and winces
Nothing in the world soothes his self
And more he sinks in distress
A ruthless eye had found him
Upon him is his gaze
Beelzebub is the bearer's name
And his soul is his claim

When he found a place in this world
He thought the slavery had come to an end
But knew not he of being free
And the road he walked never saw a bent.
© 2016 VIREN

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Bomarillu - A film that will remain with me for a long time

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ClashedBeaks

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