Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2020
Dying with minutes
in dark, when the sun
prepares to leave.

You cannot ****
history. It had happened
on the skin of freaks.

At midnight, I will give
a call to unseen, unheard
egoist, to forget anger.
Written by
Satsih Verma
Please log in to view and add comments on poems