Head hunting
in ghost time. You
had tried to influence
the stars.
A whitefly bickers, that
there was no more a
prey, revealing the faults.
You were very near
and very far.
Untouched, a wandering soul
cries for the rebirth.
Receive me
as a thought,
as a blood,
as a seed.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2020 19:41
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
Offline)
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