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by Satish Verma Dec 5, 2017 category : Nature, environment / nature
Sitting at a funeral; in ashes, you search- the faces of dead. To shut down the apostrophes. How far was your home, you don’t want to go back? A black moon invites the tallest flare- of the sun. Bright death will ask no compensation. You can travel over half- memories of frozen pain. Hourglass to Kundo clocks, you were collecting all the souvenirs to stall the translations from coast to coast.
by Michael
Satish Written in your true style, and a dark piece written of someone no doubt in your life. Michael :)