satishverma

A Long Road

Nothing to think for, 
at this moment. Faceless fears― 
like pine needles, 
prick the toes in walk. 

You cannot― 
collect the white roses 
in blue rains. 

You remember precisely, a toothless― 
poised tiger. The prey 
tied to a pole gives a 
long whimper, before being mauled. 

The game continues. You 
cannot do anything. Violence was 
real, the pen becomes the 
weapon. 

You start drawing vultures.

Comments1

  • Unobtrusive Sun

    I love this writing. Thank you for a great post!



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.