Posted in Poetry

angst

We can’t be here

While going nowhere

Chasing a mirage

In a concrete oasis.

Walking on a thin ice

With the misty eyes

Ire roars, passion heats

Miracles are imageries

Angels are too high above

We don’t want to be here.

Author:

I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome.

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