Was there any option left?
Violence was there,
evil existed in pacifism.
Signature flora demonstrates
the mental poise.
I call for the imperfections.
In blue mood, I kill the moon
and take a walk on the cinders.
Will you give me a hand?
There was no path left,
but the trees were walking on beach.
The war will never end
between the genders. The
secret of butterfly catcher
was buried long ago.
From a childhood into the -
forest of lies, it was a long
journey losing the scents.
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Comments about this poem (Utopia by Satish Verma )
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