In Isolation Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison
In Isolation
I could perceive the drum
From a desolate direction
As it echoed destiny
Fate twisted and renounced
Blue, grey, red
Portrays the barren picture
That twigs in my scruples
As I think…
Of miserable ideas
So grim like horror
In this terror
Old foes I befriend
In this forlorn global village
Of a savage populace.
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: suffering
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4/19/2024 11:53:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
