I was living inside me.
How long, the end would come
one day? In the dark there was no paper, no pen.
The quality of ascent
is failing. Inch by inch blood is diluting.
Living will be a rarer event.
Is it possible, you
can throw a death in the eyes of
weeping moon for bargaining?
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
KöltészetSatish 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...