Unapologetically


I ask the angel
moon, can you make
a white death ?

I had outgrown―
the written words, and
will not repeat the mistake
of playing an antigame
of a game.

It will be a bad omen, if someone
says I am the God.
And I will see a ghost
in your amazing eyes.

You can think aloud
by throwing back your dark
hair, as a reminder of
catastrophe.

An eeric feeling always
haunts me. What will happen
if earthquake does't arrive,
and the spiritual therapy fails?

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

Unapologetically