Big hands usher tiny dragons into tinier igloos
These sinners feast on their souls, that isn't blasphemy!
Tiny dragons by big men, big men by bigger men
What difference does it make? The hierarchy is endless!
If only our hearts were uncoiled into something softer
Should one die, kill the rest—
Big men echo the bigger men
If only
YOU ARE READING
Rhythms From a Quarter Life
PoetryI will die the very moment this poetry collection is complete, not a moment more, not a moment less. Yet, what worries me is not death but never being able to complete this poetry collection. These are the rhythms resonating from a quarter-life.
