Suspended FogA Poem by Satish Vermablueberries. I am returning your gifts
Charred―
blueberries. I am returning your gifts of cruel times, when none was crying. Chewed― evidences. I don't want to look at them― to provide the measurement of face. A demoniac― version, of a sweet dialogue, stuck in your throat. You bend double. Epitaphs demand justice. Nobody dies for his god, you want to disappear to take revenge. © 2019 Satish Verma |
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