Only the bones will
tell, how tall you were
without flesh.
This was my bane.
All night I walked towards
the moon to locate you.
Sucking sound does
not die. I wanted to reach
unannounced near the fire.
This was pathological.
There was no prophecy.
Panic makes you a viper.
You don't become a
silver after passing through
the dark tunnel.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: March 19th, 2020 20:34
- Category: Nature
- Views: 24
Comments1
Interesting. But I have problems making the connections.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.