Rags And Riches

Deep blue, almost black,
sadness.
Being,
my ache of existence.

Eyes, no body in focus.
A grey cloud
rowing the moon
amidst red stars.

Bronzed tongue
digs the spirit
out of flesh
behind the shadows.

Alone me
in unlived house of rags,
looking beyond the walls
other side of tomorrow.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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