Too Real Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Too Real
Too real
Times and times I catch
air in my palm.
I form it as I want
as power, strength
or flirt and play
with breast.
Creative in my mind.
But sadly I was right
guest was bored
so was host
unsure
child.
Displacement
Homelessness,
Refuge,
And exile
Are not words
They are acts.
Too real.
I couldn't change the shape.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: refuge
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6/1/2024 4:16:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
