Phenomenal.
Not spiritual. The birth of a new god.
But fetishism starts.
Do not meet me behind
the moon. Look somebody follows me in
dark. The baby screams.
Where the truth has
gone? Words would not tell. The barren
mind wants to know, why to bleed?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2021 20:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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