Freedom

every man has his own flies,
every man has his own ways.
he can hunt and kill his flies,
for their bright and humming flights,
once and twice in graceful glides,
skimmed and chirped in the void of skies.
men were there to wait and trap,
grow and kill them by a clap.

by chayamsu v r

Comments (2)

Excellent, well penned and poignant write which shows to me that you have what it takes to make it through the Poetry World: TALENT! Keep it up! 10+++ Love and Peace for always!
nice abstract poem, thank you for sharing