Poetry

Satish Verma


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23 january 2020

16th December 2013

Leaning against the shadow
of self, starting the
monologue. With the fall
I don't want to think of the other.
 
The beasts.
I give a call, to someone
over there,
who will listen.
 
A systematic peel, opens
the doorless cage and
sets free the malignancy―
 
to spread. Now multiple argan
failure, stares at you,
celebrating the anniversary
of the rape.
 
We are made up of
charcoal, writing on the walls
with dark fingers―
name of the victim.






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