Existential Poem by Satish Verma
Existential
Rating: ★5.0
Dying with minutes
in dark, when the sun
prepares to leave.
You cannot kill
history. It had happened
on the skin of freaks.
At midnight, I will give
a call to unseen, unheard
egoist, to forget anger.
Thursday, January 31, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 1:07:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A profound poem, Satish....10+++