When your suffering
drops by, something dies in me.
A cluster of stings-
Brings the anaphylactic
shock.I look at the faces to find
out, how many times god cries.
Don't write me on
your lips like an ephemeral
smoke rising frome the castle.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: October 28th, 2024 20:59
- Category: Nature
- Views: 0
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.