Poezja

I will talk of human
conflicts. No one was targeted.
Like you pick up a slug―
and make a thermonuclear device.

That green-tinted sand,
olivine. I will spread―
on your path, so that you
can breath easily.

This was a tranquil treatment―
before I become dazed in
polluted air of the earth and get
a thrombus. One man lives,
other man dies.

This dirty city was growing. I
will bear the blame. I
have not stopped writing
poems daily.