I didn't want it any more.
In pain footprints, I will
not replace your gift
for any blood money.

The angelic profile
had no deadly option,
only to dip into your eyes water.

The moon
fell for the thief, who
stole away the smile of purple lips.

What else was your
dream, when god made it
to your house for begging pardon?

Hunting in the clouds
a poem was searching a
beautiful title.

Why did you come in the way?