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Not True
A pigeon
flutters, in my frail―
chest, ready to fly away.

The train does
not stop here. Why
do I keep standing?

A man dies in
a blizzard. You
need to pay for it?

What was the
hallucination? I
was living for a lie?

By satishverma

© 2019 satishverma (All rights reserved)


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