To carry back the legacy
you stand like the sea horse in silent
water. Who made this plasma?
You like me, I know O god
It was an anti-love drama. We are in
relationship to kill each other.
Crisp and dry, the lips
of violet flames were always making ashes.
The color of the rusted home becomes blood.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2021 21:41
- Category: Nature
- Views: 5
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.