Poezja

The sludge rattles as you tilt on one side 
heat and dust swirl around you. 
The sun baked age drifts. 
The book of life with greasy stains, 
preserves a part of your history. 
The earth moves on. 
 
Suffering to filthy chatter, 
this city was not your choice. 
What were you doing, 
with your innocent thoughts, 
under naked aggression? 
Confessions were not sufficient. 
Seeking you were not, 
then why you were counting the coins? 
 
The last person defeats the death. 
Deaf and dumb go in a tizzy. 
The bipolars are puzzled. 
Is that the answer to a revenge? 
No body knows the genesis. 
The fog deepens. 
Clouds climb up the sky.