I write about life,
about war and pain,
battles with strife,
and singing in the rain;
I write about death,
about loss and gain,
and songs about Beth,
who steals,
my breath;
I paint what I feel,
for my poetry is black;
I’ve never written of seals,
for birds though, I have a knack;
I am but another, self-righteous quack;

By: Viraj Belgaonkar