Grip loosening;
the lesser evil─
will liberate you─
from the nights terror.
The moon bleeds,
in your bed.
A raw wound─
unblinks in pain.
No words will speak
for the fallen icon.
The death has extracted
its price.
Black milk exudes
from the round breasts.
Sun was rising.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 2nd, 2017 22:31
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
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