You know how
to live. Take me, a
lesser pain comes.
Meaning of life
was difficult to interpret,
sitting in sun.
You can conceive
meaningless numbers. I am
still counting ciphers.
Failed to achieve
something. Anything comes
in my wild poems.
Like hyacinth bell
shaped spikes I spread out
in moon to ripen in pain.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2024 20:57
- 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.