Now comes the visual
separation after the fall of an
enemy. The urbanite
crumble has begun.
The needles in eyes are hurting
the milk. Do you play
a Chinese game?
The depressive psychosis-
will throw the shackles around
you. Honey, you have
a trace of lead inside. I want
a silk covering on the arrows.
Dip a child on street
and you will create a skipper.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 27th, 2016 22:41
- Category: Nature
- Views: 14
- User favorite of this poem: shewrites.
Offline)
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