A repressed scream.
Someone breaks the head.
I was hitting the wall.
The rape hurts.
Withers away the dam.
River was changing the course.
It was very pompous;
the benign torture. No
more I belong to this world.
And the dilapidated
houseboat floats on the lake
to collect the immersed-
bones of ancesters. A
door opens. The poem prints
the pain of centuries.
Satish Verma
Someone breaks the head.
I was hitting the wall.
The rape hurts.
Withers away the dam.
River was changing the course.
It was very pompous;
the benign torture. No
more I belong to this world.
And the dilapidated
houseboat floats on the lake
to collect the immersed-
bones of ancesters. A
door opens. The poem prints
the pain of centuries.
Satish Verma
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