There was a soul-searching
after a negative assassination
tearing my past, my future.

Beneath the burden
lies the mountain of bail-outs.
You don’t feel whole
in shadows of countings.

The borders were breached
for lavish darkness
alive under the full moon.

Was it a flight risk in a swan
lake, when you were
taking a dive to pluck the
erupting fire of indictment.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.