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Ink Fall
Folder:
Satish Verma Snakebitten
you raise your hand:
not to strike back,
but to salute the pain.
Weaving the aurora of stainless performance
of inevitable.
Not going to change my path.
Gazing through years,
the fog, the hurts.
You were flame-born
in strong winds.
Father of woods,
the hunger was very faithful.
