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My Invisible Woes
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Satish Verma When you undress before
yourself, a smell of the presence
spreads. The cow was on fire.
The panther will not
move. Scars would not bleed but pain
persists. Fear and anxieties wash.
I need quietness. Howling
of wolves stops. I am blue drunk.
White papers will not spit.
I like this poem, as I like
I like this poem, as I like all of yours in this style, but that final stanza really, really rocks!!!
Starward