Poezja

Borderless pain was 
said untold. I am writing 
a new chapter of night. 
 
The somatic scent― 
does not rise now, for the peaks 
dissecting the snowy falls. 
 
Racial climbdown 
brings friction amids the uniqueness 
of downtrodden dolls. 
 
There was an intense― 
urge to rip open the endless sky― 
to find the secret of blackness. 
 
The fabled light, 
fails to distinguish between 
eyes and ears. A blind man 
 
will not find the shape 
of truth by noises.