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Last Hope

By Satish Verma | Category :: Poem

When the dialogue stops
there will be a royal bleed.

I had not come to the
terms of slaughter.

Wanted now, to manage
the anguish incontinent.

Can you find some space in
waiting, for the hangman?

Footprints and invisible faces.
Somewhere a hope lives in amber.

Trapped light, in wintery dark,
will stop a seed to play the nocturne.

By Satish Verma | Dec 6, 2017 | Category > Poem >Life | Comments | Views 215


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