Poezja

As if pruning was not enough. 
After severance from the peak, 
the ladder was becoming 
aloof and murky. 
 
Acid burn on the day 
of breaking confidentiality. 
An imperfect mirror was 
wiping out the cloud, all night. 
 
You are going to take on the 
starless sky. A moon was 
left out in the stillness of black sheen. 
You are now poking at the globes. 
 
Give me a pen to lift the 
remorse. I was desperate to become 
human. Death was looking at me 
with great amusement.