Illusion Poem by Satish Verma
Illusion
Rating: ★5.0
You were not there when,
taking a nap, I kissed your hands.
But the other pain comes back.
By giving away my
flesh-I become very rich in mirrors
I am different in every image.
Can you tell me what is
racism, when God was undivided?
I wanted to speak between right and wrong.
Monday, August 9, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: giving,racism
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8/10/2026 10:49:07 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
