Thought To Thought Poem by Satish Verma
Thought To Thought
To become insane,
I think. I miss the ruptured
wounds.
I ask myself,
was it true, you
were painting water body?
Somebody was
laughing after the funeral
of raped truth.
The bells go
without sound. I hold
my trembling hands.
The door knob was
broken. I cannot open the
portal of dreams.
A lone swan treads
softly on the smashed mirror
to reach the lake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/21/2025 11:12:26 AM # 1.0.0
