Wednesday 26 September 2018

The Angry Goddesses

Did you hear the nightingale sing?
Was it a song, a hymn?
Or poetry maybe?

A ballad that marked the onset of the pomposity that awaited the hope of a hundred thousand

It wasn't just about the ballad
The air smelt of it too
Somewhat like napalm
Lives found life in a moulded clay
Fervour spread like wildfire
As if consumed of rage


The angry goddesses were finally in sight

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