As if you had kidnapped
my profile to live
just beautifully,
and then be mourned.
To swim, first you
have to dive in a dry pool
of pain. Weird thoughts
like aphids would make young'uns
without mating.
The violence was inborn.
It spurts when your animal
comes out beastly. No
god would come to your rescue.
Thinking must be unstained
when moon drops anchor.
In this lonely sky,
no songbirds are flying.
Only stars are killing each other.
I am burning my fingers again.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 28th, 2021 21:59
- Category: Nature
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
Offline)
Comments1
'In this lonely sky,
no songbirds are flying.
Only stars are killing each other.
I am burning my fingers again.'..
yet again... 'just, wow!'
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