Poetry

Absolutely sapped out 
I will unfurl 
my flag today. 
 
It was a raw wound 
of nuanced statements in dark 
when the moon fell in lake. 
 
Talking to butterflies 
as I take on the genre 
of brainstormed hibiscuses. 
 
It rained again in my 
courtyard, wetting the 
marbles and my eyes. 
 
Take away the roof from 
over my head. I have 
come to meet the frozen tears. 
 
The enormous guilt now 
haunts the vacant eyes, why I didnot 
accept the voluptuous breast of death.