Satish Verma
Opening A Wound
Lunatic will
not go for adultery, like
a river which doesn't come
face to face with ocean.
Ink of genuine
poetry spills on the wings
of a dying butterfly that spreads―
out without bleeding.
The poet has nothing else
to say. It was a spirtitual
fault. Man tries to overrun
the god.
The raging viper, likes
the soul, to negate the thoughts
towards anonymity to read
the age of sun.
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