After a hard day
a game-changing starts,
igniting the night.
You are buried
in stitches. The wounds
are devoid of blood.
Will you split the─
silence along the words?
There was no awareness now.
A persona
becomes a revolution. The streets
are painted red.
The monument
drifts. You wash the landscape
with moonlight.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 29th, 2017 22:40
- Category: Nature
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: maryshelley27
Offline)
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