Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2016
Clouds had veiled
the waning sun.
A topaz.

A blast,
becomes quite blasé at first
then becomes green.

With envy, the moon
gives no light.
My faith tumbles.

Sometimes I ask myself.
Why did you cover
your sore spots?

As a perfect pretext
of buying peace
why did you go for the lies?
Written by
Satsih Verma
  696
     alex, ---, Elizabeth Squires and ajit peter
Please log in to view and add comments on poems