Tormenting Dreams Poem by Satish Verma
Tormenting Dreams
Half-burnt, I am
raising my hand and my poems are
working crossing the pains.
The collected suicide
of the nightingales have given the worry.
I am living in the desert of love.
Humankind is becoming
rare. The tulips have started
talking. Why the blood spots are appearing?
Saturday, July 10, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: suicide
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8/6/2026 8:17:09 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
