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Satsih Verma Jan 2019
Will go to any length,
reeking of moonlight
to reconnect with you.

Impersonal, the
red buttons, don't hide
the enmity. Life demands
its pound of flesh.

Crunching the bone
with mysterious pink pain,
to receive the knowledge.

Between Adam and Eve,
there was a poison on the
arrows tip.

Hand care, making
honey without the queen.
You cannot make a fist
without a thumb.

The spirits bequeath
their fireeating sculptors.

— The End —