Oh Man

Oh man
What are you but flowing rivers
And record players
Slowly gathering dust
In the corner of my
quiet room?

What are you but moans,
Visions of a life
Not yet lived
But foredoomed?

And man,
When will the angelic chorus’ play?
I shall moan tonight
Like no other,
With suitcase in hand,
Heavy with the burdens
Of yesteryear’s
Indifference.

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poem by Nadia Khomami
Added by Poetry Lover
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