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Perverted Game
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Satish Verma The stress blooms Magnolias.
I am an avid observer. When trees sing
the words of my poem become flowers.
Frequent pains arise. I
think nothing for a while. Is it my world?
I imagine going to another planet.
I suddenly called you.
Your bowl shaped eyes are filled with tears.
Are you asking me to drink a cup of hemlock?
