Time Kills You

satishverma

Once a while you eat
yourself. You come swaying like rain
drops. Must you stay in my eyes?

The art of slaying is done.
Blood starts flowing in the river. The trash
hangs on the wall. Spiders move.

The drama begins. No
curtains. Meaning is not clear. One
should draw a line before the sun rises.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 12th, 2021 19:55
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 31
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    Amen!
    (only - for me, its not the Time
    that does us harm
    its our needlessly cynical ability
    to procrastinate
    and waste, our very gift: of breath)



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