Snowline
A blank paper invites
for rape.
Snow sinks for a prelude.
The black swan flies away
for the quiet hills,
when sun was drawing out the blood.
Alone I will write a poem
beneath the tear soaked eyes
and then moon fell.
As in the valley
of million tulips
I will make a dream kill.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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