Small MerciesA Poem by Satish VermaSmall Mercies
Who were the derivatives
of hate? When the counting began, your name was not there. Under siege, I was your prayer. Picking pieces of violence I went insane. The wolf climbs in the last phase of moon. I was scared to lose you. Sounds of betrayal were loud. The human chain caves in, under brutality of sins. Nobody was correct in congratulatory smokes. It is a slow poisonous march. We are eating ourselves like reptiles. The parasites, would never go hungry. © 2022 Satish Verma |
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