Poetic-Verses

ENIGMA OF THE TWIST

My quarrels raw
Have no stop points;
Inform me once
About the cure:
The spoilt, harmed breath;
The law of ties,
The burnt, worn trust;
Armor of love –
To this frail might –
This very life:
Arouse my calls!
The winds may come –
Sweeten my thought –
And slash the mount;
The burning lamp,
Even the Sun.
A flop. A gone.
A clung, wrong tide;
An angry wave;
A bad hit boat.