Have You My Blood? Poem by Satish Verma
Have You My Blood?
Sitting alone, in the pain
I am eating a fallen fruit, like an old
memory. The tree helps the blindness.
Agony becomes the words in
war of attrition. Dopamine does not change
the religion, morphs into a lone star.
A dream throws you from
the immigrant moon. No land was
accepting him to stay in foreign place.
Thursday, March 9, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: blindness,eating,memory
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8/7/2026 11:16:18 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
