Average Rating 0.00 (0 votes) You must login to vote Coming near the incarnation of an unknown, sunflower seeds were cracking. Trickling down the cleavage of a tormentor reaching near the edge of poetry. I ask you to clamp my name, the gash on the book was bleeding. Was it discretion of night to decorate a battered and abused body of a doll? Naked you cry on the shoulder of the moon. This was my prophecy, this is my fate. Satish Verma ------ SV

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