Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2023
You break me in four
pieces like a cross. The pause, space
and arrows wait for the red setting sun.

The script was twisted
Death comes before the birth. Power
of mud culture has no vision.

The hypocrisy invokes the
god's hands. I tend to remain
unconscious to dig my foundation.
Written by
Satsih Verma
  261
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems