Strange Things Poem by Satish Verma
Strange Things
A micro scream, the
world does not move. The man was
becoming taller. A child wants to be buried.
A dead man speaks, I
will not live. Ah, what to do because
the scary things can be real.
Have you ever seen the
hundred alien eggs. The God
was not dead. A new generation is coming.
Saturday, July 6, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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8/28/2026 2:29:24 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
