satishverma
Not Greek Tragedy
Category: /General/
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The razor-thin gap between
us has been very nostalgic. I pick daily
the rose thorns to prick my conscience.
Grooving on heart, your goodbyes,
life has not turned back the calendar,
to find the infinity of pain.
What was your age to see
the holocaust in my poems, when my dome
was burning to save the sun.
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