Don't Alter The Red CapeA Poem by Satish VermaBlack names― were on list. Bring the
Black names―
were on list. Bring the French chalk to wipe out the white board. The list was still breathing though you had faked your death, and the birds had left their nests for new perches. Does it hurt you, when you go hungry? Even the grass was green. The prince was watching the apple fall. Who will climb the brown hills of moon, to witness the earth drop in withering trails? © 2019 Satish Verma |
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Added on September 8, 2019 Last Updated on September 8, 2019 |

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