Satish Verma
ALL WORKS Poetry (3973)
About me Friends (3)

Existential

Dying with minutes
in dark, when the sun
prepares to leave.

You cannot kill
history. It had happened
on the skin of freaks.

At midnight, I will give
a call to unseen, unheard
egoist, to forget anger.

Contact with us



Report this item


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