This was the pain through the window
in humility.
Cannot catch a break in rambling
rose,
carrying the dead crown of
a tryant.
The blindness makes
a presence.
People are bidding farewell
to the bloody son.
I want to come in death
now, after thousand years,
living in violence
of man.
The untouchable moon
was laughing.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: July 27th, 2015 22:15
- Category: Nature
- Views: 15
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