The Baton

By Harsh Patil

Don't pass me the baton, it corrodes my hands,

Its viciousness disgusts me at the very glance.

It coerces me with intimidating eyes,

It is a poison in holy grail's guise.

You're free to insinuate my cowardice,

But for me it's a choice that's least unwise.

To pass it on is everyone's cup of tea,

But when passed on to them they spill it and flee.

To bear its heft is experiencing strengt's latrociny,

With its fall, falls virtue and rises ignominy.

By Harsh Patil