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POET'S PAGE
BIOGRAPHY
POEMS
Satish Verma
June 5, 1935
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Not True
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A pigeon
flutters, in my frail―
chest, ready to fly away.
The train does
not stop here. Why
do I keep standing?
A man dies in
a blizzard. You
need to pay for it?
What was the
hallucination? I
was living for a lie?
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