Unfinished Script Poem by Satish Verma
Unfinished Script
Your hands were chopped off.
How will you write
the poem now?
*
Truth was─
an alloy. Need to mix some
lie in pure gold.
*
Why did the
roses cry? The saint was
not in the tomb.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 4:22:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
