The nephrite syndrome.
I will not change the―
calculus, to find the truth
of the flesh.
The paid price of chemistry
will make history. If
you can stop the blitz―
of the replicas.
It ends like a fire, without
ashes. The limbs check
the fall. Across the river
an isle erupts.
The prisoner at last escapes,
from the procession of profanities.
You are finally liberated,
releasing the lost poem.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 11th, 2018 19:53
- Category: Nature
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
I enjoyed, as most often I do. Well done.
Truth be known!
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