Fates Poem by Vida Nenadic
Fates
The pen is in my hand
and the heart was on it, too.
It is painful
to think of you
now
that you are no more.
You did not know
that the D day was near.
You were killed
and went like a wind.
They even stood on you
as if you were a dry leaf.
Your killer is still alive.
But he will get his justice.
He will cry,
cry away,
cry
like a rain from the sky.
Vida Nenadic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/6/2024 12:30:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
