A nest of stillborn rats gnaws futures,
nursed on sermons soaked in gasoline.
scurrying through the veins of nations,
burrowing in headlines,
swallowing the soft cartilage of possibility.
Belief doesn’t detonate bodies.
Its hands that use faith as fuse.
Eggs of blame will land up
cracked across the faces
yolks will run through streets.
Hounds will lick them clean.
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Author:
Aman 12 (
Offline) - Published: November 13th, 2025 21:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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