How can you unsee an etched wound?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 10th, 2016 22:34
- Category: Nature
- Views: 20
Offline)
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