Poetry

Life plays the tricks.
You become a meteor-
a streak of light, in the almond eyes
of a god.

I don; t like the grey areas.
Can you become fearless
and confess the guilt of drinking
the mercury? Blisters had
appeared on your face red and blue.

Was it a pure fault?
Mother earth smiles. When buried
alive thirty below the mound of lies
you remained alive.

Dehydrated, you speak
the truth and spill out the
false teeth. Your mind separates
from the heart and blood stains emerge.