Poetry * KaZ Akers

KaZ Akers

Poetry

Poetry

Marauding My Dreams

Never stopped being in love with what we were. A memory. a fantasy, So long ago. Years and places and people ago. Roads diverged after

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Poetry

The Color of My Skin.

You murdered me because of the color of my skin. Not because of my culture. Not because of my religion. Not over territory rights or

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Poetry

This.

The setting sun as a backdrop. The brilliant red, pink, orange painted across the sky. Lying tip the hill In the cool grass. Warm air,

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