The lips will speak
without sound.
A tuliped man hangs himself
down, from a tall tree of fame.
You wanted to live in the-
glare of slit throats.
The blood brings the brilliant
glitter of gold.
End of the speech will-
throw up a mascot. The noose was
tightening around the-
rising- glorious sun.
Slavery never ends. You
become victim of your dazzling
peaks, when you stand alone
at unthinkable heights.
The spirit of the tree dies in your eyes.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2019 19:53
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
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