11 june 2022

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

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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