The Dead Don't Care Poem by Satish Verma
The Dead Don't Care
Rating: ★4.5
I grope, I fumble.
I do not seek
any death.
You will divide,
my body, my soul.
Concealing a double
of god, you disappear
in zero visibility.
The bullets,
the knife.
Will they break the pride
of defying the norms?
The nonviolence speaks
from podium.
Hate breeds hate.
Would you drop the weapons
for enemy?
A rose will say I don't know.
Monday, January 30, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 9:45:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
