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Satsih Verma
Poems
Jan 2017
Captive Of Conscience
You shut to it―
the window, on watching
a row of walking stones
without feet.
Pouting,
scowling―
in a mile of tears.
(A pink lotus spills
the colors on water)
Let me talk
to my wilderness. The
script was incomplete
in shadows of greyhounds.
You crawl on the grass to find a four-leaf clover.
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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Elizabeth Squires
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