Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2023
Sitting alone, in the pain
I am eating a fallen fruit, like an old
memory. The tree helps the blindness.

Agony becomes the words in
war of attrition. Dopamine does not change
the religion, morphs into a lone star.

A dream throws you from
the immigrant moon. No land was
accepting him to stay in foreign place.
Written by
Satsih Verma
  338
   SleepEasy
Please log in to view and add comments on poems