A crowd of clones
was picking up sleeveless
shirts from potter's field.
Strangely nobody knows,
who were you after the
last laugh of the destiny.
The passion takes
you towards burning ghat, where
ultimate truth was hanged.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: March 26th, 2024 20:01
- Category: Nature
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Love it
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.