Poezja

I intuited. 
Something had crept into 
my room in dark, 
and slept on my bed 
devastating me. 
It was a moonbeam. 
 
There was no animal on the loose. 
Activism had empowered the gender base. 
One long nightmare started 
between innovation and miracle. 
Unwritten, I was loth 
to understand you. 
 
The abstract sky was 
ravishing the moon. I become 
visibly upset. Ask you to shut 
the door and start reading me. 
I had become an epic 
of water.