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Rogue Brook of Fingers

reflected
like mirror of palm
touches beyond
sides of skin
endure the sweat pain
repulse to the ground
it fall

how many
morning dew cools the bones to
rise in every call, for
nowhere, amongst the few
listen to the glory
of the sun, find the greatest
lifestyle of niches
taste the
lips

oh!
come it's almost gone the
thirst that the
teary eyes lay down to dry, where
all master the niches to
die, lucidly blooms the blood
that cried

please
split the fume of bitterness
and empty the bucket of pain
I long to wait...

poem by Antonio Liao
Added by Poetry Lover
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