You were so afraid
of yourself, that you refuse
to cry without me.
When you were to cross
the path of moon, all the stars
trembled in dark night.
It was on, the ventilator
to revive a dead poem, before
I was born to die in your hands.
Satish Verma
of yourself, that you refuse
to cry without me.
When you were to cross
the path of moon, all the stars
trembled in dark night.
It was on, the ventilator
to revive a dead poem, before
I was born to die in your hands.
Satish Verma
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