Give me a live
poem, like a mantra
chanting around body.
O teardrop, open
the grave of unseen
pain of hiding god.
Rains are waiting
to wash the black face of
the maligned moon.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 1st, 2024 21:26
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
Offline)
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