A Gangster Poem by Indranil Barat

A gun and some bullets, you know what to expect, blooded hands and rotten wounds, and darker and the dark nights, those rainy days, those cruel beings, some cruel intentions and the gang fights.

I lead a life of riches and of gold, with beautiful babes and many wooden souls, and what I live many call it life, Ah! so wrong they are, that's the thing for what I throb.

Day and night, I make many dead, some by me and some by my men. For once I never make any mistake, as I had led my heart into the cascade.

I don't wear the mask of God, and I do not deceive whom I kill, the wounds I make, the blood I spill, I let them see my face of ''The Evil''.

The road I had chosen was more dark than light. The trees on the way were made of gold, whose fruits I can admire, but cannot bite, blood was readily available for drinking, but a humble dropp of water was out of sight.

I lie beheaded today, in a pool of blood, rotten and decayed in a garbage lot. Killed by my own to whom I once fed, ''You too Brutus'', like once Caesar said.

This is the journey of a Gangster's life, his evils, his lust, his deadly might, it ends like nothing, not even a bit, Pray I get the life which doesn't end in shit.