It was a celebration.
You were ready to start
self-questioning.
In this immoral
world, why someone died
laughing?
This is not true.
Nobody wants to be honored
after the death of unknown.
You become a child,
after the murder of sepia night
for the sake of moon.
It was like a
trail of the trembling comet,
when the god cried.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: August 3rd, 2023 19:56
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.