The World Speaks Poem by Deb Panda

The world speaks loudly at him –
Spiked in damaged wing over,
Drunken cloud that clatters on,
Into tidy lure of the younger.
The pen has drank the pain; peril –
And barely keeps fluent; dozed,
Dazed awfully with voice, harsh –
Into weakened plight of the younger lad.
Dreams too far heaven; they meet –
To a withered plant in rain;
All are washed away to split –
But grew old –
Gathering for her strain.
Let often; and they strike to fire,
Be old and dim, mine never be the liar.