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Apr 2021
Religion of one word
hides in cul-de- sac of suicide.
A homeless body burns the story.

Pain of immaculate knowledge
calls a quit. Were you loyal? I embrace
a hounded rendezvous of the century.

This was a small poem,
without a celebration of the fall of
the emperor. You stand as a stranger.
Written by
Satsih Verma
60
   Leone Lamp
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