The Plague People

+9

Frames, Feathers, Dust.
Hollows, Love, Lust.
Within withered weathers…
Shallow, hole shadows.

Turn,
Quirk.
It hurts.
I didn’t expect a prick.
Redress the situation.
Bloom from night.
Dawn is here.
Dusk, no flight.

Betray,
Betray.
Barren.
Betray.

Always the same,
Never trust ‘em again.

This poem was written/submitted by Divya Mehta.

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