No Notches Left Poem by Satish Verma
No Notches Left
Who wants to die poor
near the sufferings? You were wounded by
unknown power. How much was true?
No desire to make a
new world. It was unbecoming. No
time to think about yourself.
Tonight you will lose
yourself. O venomous snake. Ending was
unending. A poison enters and a poem screams.
Saturday, June 24, 2023
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4/29/2024 12:58:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
