Levels

Of late I seem to change my levels

Low, below, high and lofty.

When anger and envy

take my soul, I succumb.

The taste of evil on my spirit

Hangs on like the thick web

Of spiders, ugly and tenacious

I let it ride. Like the depressed

Disc in the vertebrae, bearing

the tear of pain till it corrects

itself even as the tilted wheels

of a child’s toy train.

A poem by Jaya Lakshmi Rao V.