Poetry

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.