Thinking At Midnight Poem by Satish Verma
Thinking At Midnight
Your words were
desiccated. No blood was spread.
Only meaning was a killer
Two headed with
two brains, the enemy slaps his face.
Do not rub your feet on sparks.
I follow the hemlock,
whisper to the moon. The humanity
suffers. Nothing enchants.
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8/28/2026 8:06:42 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
