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Why This Madness
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Satish Verma Its thorns hurt, I still
love the rose, remaining unhappy.
No repeal. Life illuminates.
On the terrace I go to
talk to the moon. I will speak less.
I want to see the lips quivering.
This continues. The vital
existence of catching stars. This injures
but I will stand in dark.
It seems that
Love is the ultimate paradox.