Would you remove
your mask once, and come to
me as you are?
Don't throw the pebbles
to skin my pain. The wound bleeds,
to quote the past.
I ask myself to
be quiet in this moon time.
Saint was turning red.
- 
                        Author:    
     
	satishverma (
 Offline) - Published: February 26th, 2023 19:51
 - 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.