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Off-limits
There was a soul-searching
after a negative assassination
tearing my past, my future.
Beneath the burden
lies the mountain of bail-outs.
You don’t feel whole
in shadows of countings.
The borders were breached
for lavish darkness
alive under the full moon.
Was it a flight risk in a swan
lake, when you were
taking a dive to pluck the
erupting fire of indictment.
poem
by
Satish Verma
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