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Jumping From The Surface Of Water
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Satish Verma You were not a god―
in panic, seeking an asylum
with two little hands
holding a golden book.
There was a potential
threat of complete annihilation
from the foul writing on the walls
with spurious titles.
A political blitzkrieg
takes place in glass dome,
drawing out bad blood,
from healthy limbs.
Where would you go, now
in dark? Fleeing from the violence
of men, being migrant without
a temple at the end of the earth.
