18 february 2024

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Noiseless Murder

I stand in middle
of water and juxta pose the days.
Words come and go. Havens beefed.

Who bargained the faux pas?
Don't dismantle my dream world. I have
reached the edge of dying child of god.

No complaints. It is raining.
Blood is buried in the greens. I
don't doubt the integrity of the failure.

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