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May 2017
Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.

You will never know,
where you will start a rough patch
on the road?

A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.

My knees give way to anguish of morality;
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.

Tapping of kernel in hand, shell of truth bothers you,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.

Death of desire may take place.
Fragrance still devastates the moon.
Written by
Satsih Verma
139
 
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