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Knocks On The Door
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Satish Verma You are my beautiful poem,
O moon. The absent conclave will
ask the knife to navigate in homeless pains.
The masculinity prevails
to kill the growing trend of night song
to take vendetta on the clouds.
The political color invades.
You wear the. Crown to hide the sharp
features of resurrecting truth.
This poem is very beautiful,
This poem is very beautiful, and the phrases you have assembled within it are highly impressive. For such a short poem, the impression it brings to the page/screen is intense.
Starward