Heated hunger.

Sizzling heat above the thorny ground

Of sand, where winds blow without a sound

Curls of kicking goats

Gnashing their teeth as the last perdition

Empty bowls, empty souls

With no hopes, no ropes

To tether the unknown

Their tortured wits

And roaming spirits of sheep.

The dead console the living

With nothing worth giving

Only dry wood to the fire sun

To increase the blaze on their sunburnt faces

Everyone looks up to their own gods

‘Smiling’ at the cruel sun

Have pity on earth your son.

The savage birds await

For the next to fall

Yet each man try to live

And not to succumb.

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2 thoughts on “Heated hunger.

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