Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Many Injuries

Your eyes return
to haunt me like falling
vultures. I am burning
like Vega.

You had shot down
the wrong prophecy. My
candle burns whole night to search
the lost ring.

Blame of tears
was fading. Larkspurs would
miss the delphiniums. Deception
attracts the crowd. Colors blend.

Concealing the wall
yellow lilies try to bluff me
from underground. Spring was
still afar.

The second existence
was not possible. Trying to
go again for a trial.
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