The FugitiveA Poem by Satish VermaBending the gravity you start falling upward.
Bending the gravity
you start falling upward. There was― no distinction between earth and sky. Unsaid thoughts without words blend. A sign language conveying the ageless twinge of a faceless spirit. Against the outrage of morals, flatness becomes deep. The quality suffers. Inception invites the crime. Strange things happen. Man becomes a fireball, torching the domes, shrines and littering the streets with newborns. © 2019 Satish Verma |
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