Friday Poetry

  Hard Poetry

they played enough

with my becoming

taught me to hate and be

tricky for nothing

and then slapped

on my back

and said go to work

and said to be meek

I froze,

and attempts grow

but they never know

what they've done

in their own hole

Please save me from

from the hustle and winds

until all of them are sleeping

and keep their thinkings

let us

forget the names

and never blame

with no a drop of the shame

they are all the same

lets put them in a flame

its only a game

not even main

simly insane

rain rain rain

lets put them in a flame

either way...       

                                    

(Aslanova K. indeed)