Sunday, May 27, 2007

The white moon was engulfed,
By the dark murky sky.
Winds of violence hovering above,
No light to reflect,
The black night was creeping in.
Black smoke like clouds declared:
The trouble in this turmoil…
She sat there, wasted…
With arms open wide…
And screamed a plea…
The sky roared.
She is now against the sky…
Whose scream will reign?

Hers’ or Heavens’?

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