Old Glory is smartly marched down the aisle
when the opening ceremonies start...
Its just everyday
..we rise awake...
Young boys respond to
their natural summers call...
You were always tormented,
They all thought you were demented...
Do you see that child
Sleeping underneath the bench...
The mist rises from the sea,
The sky clouds with darkness this night...
All are the same; just they are same
They look identical, look like machines...
If you do not like the \'flow\' of the poem, it is...
Echoes
of our chilling...
You believe that -
Since I'm still breathing...
When you look at them, forget
the adjectives smoldering and sizzling...
It started as a joke
a very simple snort...