Pummelled Poem by Satish Verma
Pummelled
Rating: ★3.5
It was a direct hit,
meeting an immaculate
moon tonight.
Was it possible― that
a star flew off the sky
to undo something?
I was the mist,
and I was the sun.
Describing the accident―
not the truth.
The molester.
Time, steps out taking a big
chunk of life.
Unhinged, a messiah
drops dead―
at the door of equity.
How vain, was the
ego of man!
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/8/2024 5:16:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
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