Monday, March 05, 2007

scars

The trumpet call
shatters the cold dark night
as the shots of life and death ring
Loudly, sharp and a crack
a life. a story . lost
Circles continue
as life itself ceases

Paradise stained- Red!
as the clouds of despair loom
The noise of silence echoes
the battle scars- Forever.



some vague poem for cul week two years back.

1 comment:

Sathish said...

scars... to tell us how mature we are...