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Unyielding
Folder:
Satish Verma Sexism was chasing a
gibbous moon whole night.
I ask the virtuous dark,
will you be a hangman?
Targeted love was a bliss
for a dying man. You need
to walk on a fine line to
attain the liberation.
Despite the coveted prize,
killing was more convenient.
There hangs a tale, you
cannot play the tune again.
Without the hyphen, the
other side becomes blue.
A belief starts the tremors
in the sleeves of a headless moon.
