To repel the slice of
hope, the patriarch
falls midway.
Pushed to the end of
leaf, a moth is propelled
in the mouth of deeps.
The boat starts sinking
in the age of doubts
and dementia. You
will need to manage
your fires. A hollow
rustling of slogans will,
not repeal the canorous
sounds coming from the
orgy. Life takes a turn.
It asks for an insane man
to change the world.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: July 19th, 2018 19:56
- Category: Nature
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Comments1
Insanity is running amuck!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.