How Come
you move on whatever it takes
on what form
or shape or color
you join a party
finds some hoax
or opens the
fake emotions
crossed, one gets away
for good,
or bad,
one listens, on the
barrage of
outbursts of emotions
late at night
mouths are pressed
and the brain dreams
of lands so faraway
having discovered
a scar
the wound remembers
and then
the night begins to speak
it murmurs
it is mum from the beginning
strikes past twelve
it stops,
it accepts
what lies there
as a nude
woman needing
a man
ah, the stone turns
into a bird
and one wonders
how come...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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