A crack on earth’s chest
gaping open,
allowing the hot fumes of fury
surge up.
Like puss oozing out from a wound,
raw, gawking,
flinging out rotten dejected memories
from a fatigued body.
A heart, slit
and an ugly visible gash;
a hope, torn
and the stench of dead dreams;
tossing away permanence
that keeps changing every second.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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