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You Are Seen Everywhere
Folder:
Satish Verma You will be in a poem.
Beheaded. I am not yet born.The
sinister hand refuses to pull me out.
Something breaks in me.
Sometimes I ask the flowers to sit on
ears and I will talk with narcissists.
Untitled my pain comes
again and again. I am let in the
light of rising moon to recall you.
