In Unconsciousness Poem by Satish Verma
In Unconsciousness
It was a curved truth.
Handmade but flawed, cannot give
a gloss to the waning garden.
Half-eaten thistle was
not sufficient. The hunger pain
was of no interest after death.
Take away my love index.
Homo sapiens are going in reverse.
I will weaponize my muse.
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5/2/2024 8:04:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
