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Satsih Verma
Poems
Feb 2018
Leukosma
A dynamic ****,
when you start crystal―
gazing.
Were you a participant
of an organized
**** of the planet?
Your roots drop,
as you gamble with the
change of coins. It would
become a stillbirth,
of a seaisle.
Telling lies has become
a lucrative job.
Are you going to buy immortality,
in the bazaar of bazookas?
The blast cells were
rising. There was intense
pain in my thighs. Blood
was turning white.
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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