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) - Published: April 21st, 2021 18:42
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.