Of Daggers Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Of Daggers
Of daggers
One feels them when fallen
On the face, unaware
Witnesses are many
Media, in paper; on the air
On how they, keep coming
Cold and hot; poisoned
Ambush in, dark of night
One can see in these days
Best sample in one man
'He did me this or that'
One's calling to declare
'We have touched'
To make name
It is shame that they come
In bad time; ‘he is weak'
This is what dagger is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/20/2024 10:53:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
