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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=515520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ink Did Not Stop</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=515520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sitting on the heap of debris<br>I decided to move one day.<br>The rain did not stop<br>I was walking alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=515520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It was a cruel time, my toes caught<br>in bad thaw. I was working on a bawling<br>theme of comatose words, a pottery of sorts.<br>In fact the fear had not saved me.<br>The sun did not stop<br>I was thinking alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=515520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A prosaic neighbourhood had acquired<br>weapons, I was inattentive. My wounds<br>always bled in hooting night.<br>A flute it seems talked to me.<br>The moon did not stop<br>I was weeping alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=515520" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Terrible, terrible it was to abandon<br>my home of luxury, to become a stone, <br>to walk like a ghost with orphaned<br>spirit. The voice without echo, murmuring.<br>The ink did not stop<br>I was writing alone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Satish+Verma">Satish Verma</a></strong></div>

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