16 july 2021

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Not True

A pigeon
flutters, in my frail―
chest, ready to fly away.

The train does
not stop here. Why
do I keep standing?

A man dies in
a blizzard. You
need to pay for it?

What was the
hallucination? I
was living for a lie?

Contact with us



Report this item


You have to be logged in to use this feature. please Register