7 july 2024
God It Kills
Get to take call,
I will follow myself― and
open the old wound.
Of conscience.
The veins of leaves will knit
the face of a brute.
Ready to violate
November. The dilemma in
waves of lake rises.
How to pick cotton
flowers to celebrate snowfall.
We have reached moon.
Is that you, I
ask my poem, can you maintain
the purity of dawn?
21 february 2025
wiesiek
21 february 2025
Eva T.
21 february 2025
ajw
20 february 2025
absynt
20 february 2025
absynt
20 february 2025
wiesiek
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marka
20 february 2025
marka
20 february 2025
marka
20 february 2025
marka