I summon the questions.
You will not reply. The words
dance on black glaciers.
You stay out, hounding
the quietude. Earth is on
quit call. I step back.
I am not in line
of succession. I forgo
the title of blood poem.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 22nd, 2024 20:09
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments1
Excellent write
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