The Flesh And Predators Poem by Satish Verma
The Flesh And Predators
Not qualified,
to seek the right to live
on your terms.
I am ready
to drink from the poisoned
cup of hemlock.
Purple spotted twilight is―
carrying the dead sun
on shoulders, I tremble―
writing the history.
Each pebble was a pathfinder.
I bow down to salute the sea.
I don't agree
to make you different, what
you are not.
The essence will
not spill, till you throw
your fears on the road.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/7/2024 9:06:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
