Cold Poem by B U Afnan
Cold
Cold seeping in towards my soul.
Warmth dying as I see them pour,
cold ice, into their words of gold
Shards of ice break into these glasses of old
Silver remains, my mirror is gone
Images false, dance of the 'black swan'.
Cold. Cold.This world is cold!
It's warmth, is an illusion sold
Humans are dead, there are no mirrors left
The theft of reflections, by mirages deft.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/16/2024 1:11:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
