By
Misha in
Poetry |
Reads: 251 |
Likes: 0
my uncles liked having loud conversations,
they liked keeping count,
of how many people survived,
and of how many died,
they liked arguing over policies,
capitalist or communist,
conservative or socialist,
as if the leaders involved were just by passers,
diplomats in their monarchical world,
they li Read More...
Published on Apr 3,2020 12:27 AM
By
Misha in
Poetry |
Reads: 570 |
Likes: 0
11 PM.
The film was beautiful,
He and I walk hand in hand,
There is a storm coming,
They always come by surprise,
Starting with light rain,
And then hit unexpectedly,
Always leaving a huge wound,
One that could take years to heal,
I had no idea,
That soon there would be a wound so vast,
So powerful, Read More...
Published on Apr 3,2020 12:19 AM
