Satish Verma

Gold Star - 34,930 Points (5-6-1935)

Unfinished Script - Poem by Satish Verma

Your hands were chopped off.
How will you write
the poem now?


Truth was─
an alloy. Need to mix some
lie in pure gold.


Why did the
roses cry? The saint was
not in the tomb.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 25, 2014

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