Poetry

Satish Verma


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20 november 2021

In Darkness

Talking to Morpheus
when moon was asleep.

I was not guilty of
waking you up.

In splinters, the man
goes deaf and dumb.

A violin was thrown
on the track to stop the music.

Death becomes a finger,
points at you.

The rodes become blind.
There was no D-Day for exit.






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