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by Satish Verma Nov 26, 2019 category : Nature, environment / nature
Blunt and bold were the wet spots. You bleed like me. The seizure takes hold of millions thoughts. My sins are walking with me. No annihilation of the flesh. I was meeting the spirits. The face becomes pure gold, when you start burning the issues. The years had survived in slumber. Death will not come to the hanged man.