![]() Funeral of the Warm HandsA Poem by Parsa![]() A transition from wanting soft physical love to a journey of independence and freedom![]()
I was prepared
To counteract the storms Or a big tidal wave But sometimes even Hoover dam Couldn't keep the Colorado at bay It would overflow And would try to drown me Silly me,I thought I would float So I grabbed their hands With a wish,they would hold 'em tighter If not tighter,atleast with passion But all I saw my hands left in the cold Like a dead body,lifeless in the port of their stout stardy hands. But I had a fire in me Which didn't allow me to be dead for long. I rose high I rose alone I started closing rest of the windows, Windows that I kept open For the last drop of evening dew To soak my face for the minimal love,bare affection and homely belongingness. But it's always better to be a headstrong emperor than a regular pauper. Now I ride on those big waves and even if I drown,I scratch the surface again . I'm ruthless,I'm powerful and I will not be crushed Not for love,not for allies Not for a home. © 2022 Parsa |
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2 Reviews Added on July 6, 2022 Last Updated on July 6, 2022 Author![]() ParsaDhaka, Mohammadpur, BangladeshAboutHi I'm parsa.Im basically a medical student but I love to write poems,write songs,compose them,love drawing and dancing.i am a human rights enthusiast as well a second waver feminist.i love being a tr.. more..Writing
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