Myths Of Centuries Poem by Satish Verma
Myths Of Centuries
Words would wear the blood caps.
In tyranny of the full moon,
the wound becomes bigger.
Mask after mask,
you will never find the
real face. The cannibalism
makes you sick.
I survived the branding.
O god, I will never
shame you. The virginity
was at stake in the hands
of angels.
You receive the bullet,
when glowers were thrown.
Violence has a price.
Brick by brick you make
the temple again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/7/2024 5:41:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
