what kills a man:
when a man finds desert in his purse
and takes no meal not to mention a dessert,
his sighs become the water he drinks to aid the digestion of a thousand worries that went down his throat.
a man stares at what grinds him into debris,
burns his heart &
slams the empty doors in his head
and doctors warn him to be wary of his pulse.
what else kills a man if not the emptiness that breathes in his dead pocket?
A sublime start with a nice poem, Agunbiade. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There you go Nice.