Give Me Love Poem by Satish Verma
Give Me Love
I want you to be
killed, O hemlock. Lots of people
will do, for the sake of rebirth.
Life is a game. No
balls. Only knives. Who does not
want to survive. From where the mercy comes?
Words will grow. Answers
will be evaluators, but they disappear.
People stand on the terrace folded hands.
Thursday, October 24, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: answers,life
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8/29/2026 10:17:30 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
