Karma Poem by Lev Brekhman
Karma
A snake, very very black,
Whispered itself into my room.
It won't get back,
As it is my doom.
... Future lies to nigh,
The past is all dead.
I don't laugh, only sigh -
But not from dread.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: irony
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5/8/2024 4:31:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
