A long pause
after my signature peel
of the spasm.
It was a broken flight
of an anguished
end in itself.
an apolitical fault
for an apology.
Illegal, soaring, preparing
to take a dive
in the pit of fire.
For a gospel truth you
take cloak off the dagger.
You will sell your nudes.
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Comments about this poem (DISTRAUGHT by Satish Verma )
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