From Suicidal AngleA Poem by Satish VermaYou become a crimson dusk in a sea of greens.
You become a crimson
dusk in a sea of greens. The cost of the murder had increased. With lock and key you can enter a new era of misunderstandings and misquotes. The fertility cult skips the gravel, catches hold of thighs and climbs the fame. Healer was in great despair. Grape seeds were ready to sell the garden of honeysuckles. Oh novice, don't go alone in the war-zone of suicide― bombers. They were looking for the witch in breaches. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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