Words were unable to explain
the darkness of unholy marriage,
of terror with chrysanthemum.
And bullet did not know the target
it flew on command to kill the smell of a man.
My song now hangs like a dirty laundry
on the wall of peace.
Death of green eyes, must come in few days.
The lamps will mourn for the light.
I wonder sometimes, when time comes
How I will kiss the death
And how death will embrace me.
Satish Verma
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