Pale Red DotsA Poem by Satish VermaPale Red Dots
After watching an honour
killing, moon slept on the dirtroad. Thinking about god and blood game, I was upset. I don't find any difference. The stings. Always bleed my hands, when I collect the honey from your lips. No memes. It was factual. The darkness feeds the mouth of sun. It was an absolute bliss! © 2024 Satish Verma |
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