Fixing the dignity
like a fabulous sarcophagus
you are unsparing in your generosity.
You left one window open
for the saint of wax
to let in the light.
Keeping him alive for –
a fake functionality
to run the community.
There was a long queue
of people to offer the wooden roses
before the wound heals.
Who was eternal in this
vanishing universe? Do-
not stop me of if I start bleeding.
Satish Verma's Other Poems
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