A fistful of scent,
I inhale the lingering
pain moving crescently.
What was your doubt?
The weak bones will not carry
some hidden truths.
The earth will stink,
of broken water. No new god
was going to appear.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 16th, 2023 20:36
- Category: Nature
- Views: 4
Offline)
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