Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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One Turmoil Deep Inside

Resisting your wisdom
I want to remain, thoughtless.
Not bargaining, I come in the crowd,
to negotiate a stunt.

The awakening,
the trepidation. I pay honour
to the great stress angler―
my poverty of cruel jokes.

Like a fox to reignite―
the identity. I will move away
from the body of blood soaked denials
standing alone, against the genocide.

Was still hungry, eating
your violet-red― plums. Not was whole,
the controversy. Somewhere a
forensic evidence will say, mask was not real.
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