This attitude rattles
me. Silence has―
become very vocal.
The body does not listen
now. A knife
has become celibate.
The unsung hero was
untainted and pure.
It was the veil, which was corrupt.
Are you ready for
the hang? The wrists cut
open were not bleeding.
The jewel of the fire
does not burn. Even the
purple hemlock is very sweet.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: July 7th, 2018 20:39
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.