My voiceless soul silently witnesses
the devilish appetite of your murderous heart,
darker than incongruous death,
clutch my wings,
defeather them,
to embellish your plumage with the feathers plucked.

Finally, you declutch my wings-
a sense of pleasure and pain
in reclaiming my free spirit.
An ephemeral joy,
which lasted until my wings got slaughtered
by your hues of raven.

Pain trickled down,
as carnelian tears of my strangulated heart,
as thirteen echoes of my beheaded soul-
watching you soar high,
spreading your wings of blood across the sky!

GREG RAKOZY ALIREZA DOLATI

 

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