Halving my agony
was a guffaw. The hero of poetry
becomes a king of mercy.
Tears have started drying
up on cheeks. Someone wants to steal
you from me. History of pain drops.
The pilgrim's bones stand
erect in the sliding mud of hate. The
vengeance will be a wreath of flowers.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 18th, 2021 21:24
- Category: Nature
- Views: 41
Offline)
Comments1
flowers,
imbued with the love, of those plagued
by the fate
of the title 'meek' - destined to inherit,
the 'Literal' devastation
we'll still, stubbornly title
our dystopian remnant of Earth
with unshakeable, Pride!
(such a profound write,
thanks for choosing to share!)
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