My nativity at peril
I wanted to stay away from myself
seeking anonymity in inwardness
Death had drawn a circle
my mode of survival depended on
the hopelessness of life
The ant-hills were growing!
The final assault will take place at night
at spiritual depths.
I will be seething with fake acoustics.
Kissing the blue lips of dawn
night bids adieu.
I will move quietly behind the corpse
A dark tribute to the mother of sorrow.
Flames on river, my body was burning
in blue waves
I was repeating history
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 25th, 2015 23:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.