With stoned eyes
I gather the baby clouds
to search for old moon.
Being or not a being,
walking on the white sands
looking for blood spots.
Forgive your bones
which take you to forshaken
god, of bitter truths.
Satish Verma
I gather the baby clouds
to search for old moon.
Being or not a being,
walking on the white sands
looking for blood spots.
Forgive your bones
which take you to forshaken
god, of bitter truths.
Satish Verma
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