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Howling

Before I leave
I will give you my gift
to perceive the human anguish.

Time had passed like a snake
noiselessly, skipping the years
I grieved.

The solace of harvesting the dreams
was thin.
A terrible shadow of a futile
creation.

Hopes always lied
hollowed by anesthesia of truth.
A surrogate womb trims
the love.

My garden was always green.
Howling was generating the heat.

poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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