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Satsih Verma
Poems
Aug 2017
Of Innocence And Black Magic
The evil city? You
become the smallest
light.
The lamb did not save
the godman. I was
praying loudly.
It was falling apart.
The concept, the belief
the palace.
Years roll by. Until
the priest was shot down
on the street.
You marvel at the
turning of the mountain.
How do you climb down the salt?
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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