I Will Not Agree

This was the first 
evidence of altered genes. 
Keeping you in abeyance, the 
barbs fly from lips to lips. 
It is pitch dark. 
Reaching the tortuous path of climb, 
unabashedly you want to say 
it is over. 
At the edge of hurts. 
What was your pride? Very 
private, very distant, thinking 
to and fro, when someone wants to pull you back. 
Do some questions arise? 
Are you ready to talk? 
The sermons, the prayers won't 
help you become a subject― 
to unseen god. 
The delusion of being chased 
begins. Truth becomes silent. 
Will nihilism overtake?