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Satsih Verma
Poems
Nov 1
No Visual Sorrow
Going to save my
trust. A legend is born in empty hands.
Sacred kisses become bitter.
It was a dharma,
to give an emotional wound. The eyes
open when you come out of the womb.
A divine fault. We
walk in the opposite direction from the
home. I scream to meet the creator.
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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Jeremy Betts
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