21 november 2018

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Frightening

The winds ruffle the 
solitude. Sparrows were 
watching me. 
 

 
My name was floating 
in dark. I want to burn the 
book, to throw some light. 
 

 
Violence will toss 
you around, when you 
are wearing the grass.

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