There is a parable
Of him who was slain by the hands of a lover

Lotus flower, a lover’s prize, she said
Overwhelming to sleep
In the lair of a she snake
Stung by the poison of a needle
Shuddering instil was a pecker, a locust
Awoken from an endless omerta
She did not see, the heart so gentle
Cursed you are, of many a talent
You had me living in Jahiliyyah

cool poem akhart.. nice title too..

misty

Such an unfortunate premise for such a nice poem! Good work, akhtar!

~Best~
Megan