After an aggressive
kiss of life, a very restless
soul, trapped in the stale body,
wants to escape.
In dead of night, it
rains inside the eyes, on paper
and in poems.
You trip when a
decapitated head of the
past wants to bite.
Not an anomaly, you
were wished in the wet prayers
of a kneeling goddess.
We do not reach
the question marks, and
answers are in our hands.
Do we see the silver
in dark clouds?
Who knows the unwritten?
In dead of night, it rains inside the eyes, on paper and in poems. -I loved it..An amazing poem..beautifully penned..regards
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The message of this poem is interesting....