So much to think
of infidelity at the edge of
yesteryear living in a broken home.
All my poetry comes
out to recite elegy for the unspoken
tragedy. It was tumultuous..
Skeletons start working.
Was it dysmorphia? To revive the
narcissism? I drop the blood.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 2nd, 2024 19:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
Offline)
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