I am watching myself.
Life is not the same. It is dented.
The mental peace is cracking.
Am I racist, the god
said in sleep, as if in terminal pain.
Who made the humans. I won't think.
What was your grief?
I wanted to know from a dying myth.
The resilience has failed against the blood.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
PoetrySatish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...
