Poetry

Satish Verma


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11 june 2022

Trashing The Skill

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.






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