From The Edge Poem by Satish Verma

From The Edge



You were becoming more prone
to violence, confronting
the moon. Heat was rising.

Like a mongrel, twirling
round and round in dirt,
to sit in.

It was very dangerous, the
racial thought of eliminating
oneself in the mainstream.

A morphogenic change
was visible. Why were you
shrinking in horror?

The group pain was getting
a hold of me. I am not
sure, what I will do now.

Friday, February 12, 2016
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