Ruthlessness Poem by Satish Verma
Ruthlessness
I was fighting with
me. You own me a kiss of vipers
venom. O God what was left with you?
The imperial fall. A
courier brings the message of
cloudburst, mud slides like a apocalypse.
Centuries passed, we
made praying stumps. How long we
will invite thunder to wake you.
Wednesday, August 7, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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8/28/2026 6:42:01 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
