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Miracles Don't Happen
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Satish Verma Part of me― like a morpheme,
you are leaving.
Now I will stand without legs.
The slain shadow moves
from face to face. I
have yet to complete my chapter.
I know what you have to offer.
But I wanted more of
your intimate thoughts about life and death.
You have frequent mood swings.
Sometimes you wanted to go insane
in this clever and wise world.
I trace the terrain of the
inaccessible mount, where one day
you will find broken hull.
