Dying red leaves were
ready for a blitzkrieg. The spectre
of blood river returns suddenly.
The consistent failure
brings the dewy tears. Tell me--was it
writing on the threadbare body of pain.
Ah a dust song comes
from a comet's tail. A thunderstorm
has a hole. It is the eye of the grim reaper.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 27th, 2024 19:43
- Category: Nature
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Powerful, can tell you put your heart into this poem. Nice Write S!
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