Form And Muscles Poem by Satish Verma
Form And Muscles
You talk of evil,
I become incendiary.
The name had power.
Unthinkable. You
fight the lurid details of
chopping off fingers.
How would you write
the opus of human slip
for seeking royalty?
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/26/2024 11:04:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
