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Your God, My God
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Satish Verma I want to make you feel my
presence, by my unease, with not mincing my
words to show my synchronicity.
The pain will not pay
heed. I continue to wash my wounds.
with blood. Can it be retrieved?
The vultures are descending.
I am collecting the cadavers. There
were no scars. Who washed them?
Although not entirely sure of
Although not entirely sure of what is means, I like this poem very much. It reminds me of some French symbolist poems.
Starward