Power Lines
The numbers were going up
and hallowed men were no-
more saints.
You find that your shirt
was stained. Now fear creeps-
under the skin.
You come near each other in-
dark. Reverting yourself you talk
to strangers.
Against the wall of water as
high as your ego. Epidural abscess-
a silence of unknown.
Now, every hour you die. Light
abducts the dreams. Nothing to-
talk about the blitzkrieg.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment