Dying Poem by Ravindra Hippie
Dying
People are dying
People are crying
Like sand leaking through Hands of monsters.
So innocently, we are just thinking
We are just thinking...
How old we are!
How Worth we are!
How far from blood we are!
We are just smiling..
On the faces of red blood cotton buds
We are just killing...
Not them but ours souls..
In the name of superficial.
Saturday, September 11, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: monsters
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8/28/2026 7:33:38 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
