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by Satish Verma Jun 24, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
Touching your glacier lips with my poems. A splinter thought has hogged the center stage. There was a double meaning in relaxed posture of rebellion. Doves of peace were not visible as yet. The poverty of freedom to defend the talent of embracing death without bullets of shame. Stones in limelight, left and right, hitting the walls of silence. The fat people with golden hair will decide the hard core burns. All night, I was changing sides. Moon was sending the messages in gaping holes. Let the skin of hands, hang like salt-and-pepper!