UnsucceedingA Poem by Satish VermaAfter the elective execution,
After the
elective execution, you reach at the end of nowhere. A wayward cloud stands alone under the plump moon. It is absolutely― white, like the wings of a swan. Beneath the earth you want to dig out the remains of dark hoods. Gale-force winds promise to make you snow-blind. © 2017 Satish Verma |
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