A multitude of images-
Of a kissing breeze and
Of a haunting misery.
The ulterior motive defeated
For a purpose of minisculity.
A summit of voices,
Rending their grief into a never-ending pit;
Ripping apart rust-hardened souls!
A troupe of busybodies
Detached from a well-established reality
Sounds ready to shatter their trance;
The clang of a metal window,
And the ripping muscle of a fleeing doe
Amidst all the twisted loving sound of doves.
No comments:
Post a Comment