Inventory Of Pain Poem by Satish Verma
Inventory Of Pain
Lying on bed of
thorns, you revoke the curse
of moon to remain amputee.
This was signature
therapy to become secular.
You rub the side of flame.
My dissent was
natural. Cannot speak any lie.
Will listen to my ethos.
Monday, February 3, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/5/2024 5:08:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
