Birth in birth, life
had been a dream. The fangs
sit in patience.
Trapped soul in
womb, waits for the kiss of
flame, a snaky hit.
The moon thought burns.
The ink bleeds on paper.
A poem turns green.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 10th, 2023 19:56
- Category: Nature
- Views: 0
Offline)
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