Trashing The SkillA Poem by Satish VermaVeneer 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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