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Satsih Verma
Poems
Jul 2018
Somehow
Becoming impersonal,
the observed will speak today,
not the observer.
There were no complaints.
It drills the hole in heart.
But you don't die.
No blood spills.
On the rocksβ
stands a temple of unbeing
I am ready to become a monk.
This was not a ******,
not a suicide, if you
want to become a martyr.
The heaven trembles.
Let the veil rise, unmasking
the blind truth.
The mercury was rising
without fever.
There was no alarm.
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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