Pale Red Dots


After watching an honour
killing, moon slept
on the dirtroad.

Thinking about god
and blood game, I was
upset. I don't find any
difference.

The stings. Always
bleed my hands, when
I collect the honey
from your lips.

No memes. It
was factual. The darkness
feeds the mouth of sun.

It was an absolute bliss!

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

Pale Red Dots