18 may 2024
Misty Memories
Grey air. I will come to myself, igniting
the fire. When will be ground reality known?
Standing on the cusp of pain.
It was not a legitimised, valorused decision.
When you will leave the things as
they are. I tossed the new born thoughts.
Great walls were crumbling
unfolding the ugly ephemeral cults.
Who gnaws my poems? Don't search
my unuttered words for your maturation.
27 july 2024
Satish Verma
26 july 2024
wiesiek
26 july 2024
Eva T.
25 july 2024
wiesiek
25 july 2024
Satish Verma
24 july 2024
wiesiek
24 july 2024
Eva T.
24 july 2024
Satish Verma
23 july 2024
wiesiek
23 july 2024
wiesiek