The DécorA Poem by Satish VermaSexist barbs against wooden breasts, street-smart.
Sexist barbs against
wooden breasts, street-smart. I am something not, I am. A wall of tears. Liquid nicotine, I will not declare myself, creating a poem in different ways. Waywarding, protégé digs the gullies- becoming unfaithful to himself. The hope, will it be extinguished? The tall mud slide, a devastating statement burying you, me, everyone. A black beetle, collecting carcasses, to feed the young. It is on the rise, green sea. I cannot see myself bleed, by the grasshoppers. It is like committing suicide solo. © 2018 Satish Verma |
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