Dragged, beaten, but had committed
Nothing, that deserves to be punished,
But in the eyes of prejudice,
He is the devil of malice.
Sentenced to the pole,
Attached with thick old ropes,
Drifting away his only hope,
Death absorbs him like a black hole.
Near his feet, a flame was born,
These red demons licking his legs
His life shatters as, in vain, he begs.
YOU ARE READING
What is life?
PoesíaThis is not a book Just like a fishing pole My thoughts are reaching out to people Hoping they will grab on one hook This is not a story Just a way of thinking My way of communicating From depression to glory I hope you will like what I write. Ple...
