Reality Poem by Mushtaque B Barq

Where there is smoke there is fire
Beneath a politician enjoys a liar
 
A black friend yesterday asked
Why vehicles prefer black tyre?

Drag them to death is 'white order',
Or else for filth for a penny hire

If the white puts on, gets a smile
Why on me ashames his attire?

Black is night, so is nightingale
A lotus but grows only in mire

Ego is red, echo but colourless
Colours all lose lustre on pyre

Smoke and sin serves whome
A speck are all in divine gyre

Where there is smoke there is fire
In every seller lives a brutal buyer.