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The Dirty Beliefs
Folder:
Satish Verma More searing―
in fog of love.
You prepare the first draft―
of suicide.
It was not in your
handwriting from the left,
before sending―
the message.
The crash of the drone
before hitting the ground.
I apologize to sun for―
the brilliant fault.
I will never know
what did I give you.
My tulips were ravaged
by the statecraft of the winds.
