Avant-Garde

satishverma

Future will find you
one day. I am trying to forget me.
The deadly avalanche was revengeful.

I don't want to
go into comma. I was not alone in the
firing range. Impeachment was not the answer.

Smell of burning grass
purrs the rising pride to commit a
sin of saving the scorpions.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 21st, 2021 18:42
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 9


To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.