Still the Orange Morning Rise
Dripped in broth, our chicken fingers lie
Our inabilities, our sorrows, our griefs
Cringing in agony, to be in, other ways
Mirror reflection of our masked pain
In a world of laughter and show off.
Words seem only an inevitable
Redundancy of a reason
To hold the ground.
Dripped in broth, our chicken fingers lie
Still the orange morning rise,
Unashamed, unyielding
everyday.
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment