Abstract ThoughtsA Poem by Satish VermaEscaped soul was pronounced dead, after
Escaped soul
was pronounced dead, after becoming rich. You start peeling of the skin of neo-poverty. Hunger equates you with god. It hurts your tarnished honesty. The image of half-man, half-tiger. The veneer coming off very soon. The pepper spray was well planned for steady hands to make you spring-blind. Your pockets are full of fireflies. The poetry effect was negligible, when you start praying for snowstorm. © 2018 Satish Verma |
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