Pain Of ShinglesA Poem by Satish VermaHiding behind the faces, you had pushed me to the edge.
Hiding behind the faces,
you had pushed me to the edge. Now Himalayas were weeping. The self-mutilation starts. Human body and mind collide like tectonic plates. There was no rape in sacred marriage. Do you know the anxiety and depression are not only the human traits? Psychosis. The obscenity does not leave, and the language starts dying. You block the road. Nobody was going to leave the doomed plains. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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