There Are Many Hands Poem by Satish Verma

There Are Many Hands



Unnamed, tragedy of a
burning path. You go for a post
human activity. Angels were going wild.

What is the sanctity of
sacrificing your limbs, to reach god's
home? The price of news was increasing.

Ah the modernism of
love, needs different bloods to bargain
the cost of wasted sperms reaching earth.

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