Clauses
Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.
Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.
The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.
Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.
Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.
I will expand till infinity.
Life will take care
of ferocious clauses.
SATISH VERMA
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