Trying to shake hands
with moon hanging out, to
reconstruct a memory.
Was fortunate
to have survived the night.
A theater of death was birthing.
No sighting of mercy,
I was going to punish myself.
The faithless will hatch a plot.
Why swear words
are needed to make a point?
The man-eater
was climbing up.
Your body language leaves you.
In despair of aloneness
quietism overtakes.
You have reached there,
where you had willed.
I will wait for the wasps.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 26th, 2020 19:22
- Category: Nature
- Views: 29
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments1
Powerful indeed!
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