![]() Trashing The SkillA Poem by Satish Verma![]() Veneer was coming off. Tribal fear to fore, am![]()
Veneer was coming
off. Tribal fear to fore, am trying to figure out. From where the light will come, between the pain and heart? I will wait and watch. After paying debts― I will wake you up. When it was my time to leave. There was an anti― hymn on my lips, when light went out. End comes to play. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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