In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.
Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.
You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.
I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.
The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 1st, 2019 19:19
- Category: Nature
- Views: 31
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
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