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by Satish Verma May 15, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
At middle of nowhere I don't want to believe in your truth. In white robes a crowd, like mushrooms of same genes, raising their heads, after paying obeisance to mother's mausoleum. It was still a face of terror, my trampled future in our nemesis. Was it a divine curse? I remain, who I was. Unscathed unharmed, after you left before the knif's plunge. The alternate damage was mine. I will bear the asp's bite in my glory. Closing the door of crypt was not my choice.