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Give Me Back My Love
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Satish Verma You stole my shade
to bare it all, culling the lethal
truth, when someone goes blank.
I was not bonecipher.
My blood flows in your veins.Yesterday
I killed myself on paper. Ink is still screaming.
It hurts to collect the dead.
The grief becomes obsolete. Life gets
naught in the crowd of angels.
