Strange Eyebaths

satishverma

Looking into yourself, 
one day you will say 
I am not an alien. 

The unborn nightmare 
takes a secret look at the 
self-portrait of a Rembrandt. 

The contours were 
losing the shape. Being 
dented you don't― 
want to become a pawn of time. 

The hearsay was genuine. 
You start believing 
about the blameless moon. 
Pink threads were appearing in your eyes. 

An enigma flourishes. 
Neither you will open your mouth, 
nor the night will end.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 6th, 2019 19:23
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 6
  • Users favorite of this poem: Sunshinefalling
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