8 march 2018
What Went Wrong?
In twilight,
the noose tightens─
and shadows start walking
towards you; to reclaim
your anonymity─
and declare in deadpan manner:
the author is dead.
Your smallness goes
on sale. You are subjected
to scrutiny by the small print, but
the truth escapes from lidless eyes.
A private punishment.
There was blood on the knife.
Why did you write a
sanguinary poem for your savior today?
19 march 2024
The Pain Was Not YouSatish Verma
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1802wiesiek
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Ruda na platynowoabsynt
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Art In DyingSatish Verma
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W gotowościJaga
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takie tam ćwiczenieabsynt
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I Will SurviveSatish Verma
16 march 2024
1603wiesiek
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tu i teraz, zanurzając sięTomek i Agatka
16 march 2024
Drzewo recykling 2020Marianna Małgosia Bakanowicz