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by Satish Verma Nov 4, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
When the hurting fails to speak, tribalism wins, without a shine. When I hold your hand, you wanted to know the ethics of our sins. Then you bend in dream like the circinate frond or maidenhair, to kiss my bleeding toes. For you someone would be falling apart. Take care of him to the death of night. The body will meet the dust one day, to understand life and come back to unload the virtues. Not you, not me we all are superficial.