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Satsih Verma
Poems
May 2023
Got Little
Now my needs are few.
I think in my mother tongue, that I will
give my broken body a torn note.
In my loneliness I call truth.
Where lies the shrine of an immortal?
After all, death was taking revenge.
On white paper I want
to write the history of demolition of the truth,
so that the sun behaves like a slave.
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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