Author Information
MR. FAGA IN THE CRYPT
he comes out like black moon
lids in the brow of night sky
envelope himself inside his tatter attire
shrugging head under oh!am tired
he said stress has mobbed the sweat hires
angrying pain and faulty dire
he kept shrugging shoulder with tiny head
looking eyes under head like owl
touching ground to smolder
on the pocket of stubborn lane
he held his loosening cloth
on fade palm,bare sole
kicks himself down on wrath
with his feet soil blames soul
down on his body sweat
to feel thirsty taste
