05 July, 2021

Sleeptalking

The sword hangs. You
will not scream. There was stigma.
No style. I think. Let it go.

What magic. There
was huge money in asylum. Golden
eagle. Comorbidity. Black fungus.

Is it possible to find
human, who lives beyond himself?
Where is the truth? The poem says in me.

Satish Verma

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