My poem done. The
blood night comes gingerly
I will stay awake―
to die every inch
in your purple dreams. O love
why it was scary?
Not my doing. This
utopia in fake play
chasing my verses.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2021 22:42
- Category: Nature
- Views: 4
Offline)
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