Life's like a mirror
Even or life is borrowed
And are not even promised tomorrow
The dead carried in palanquin?
Upraised with songs like a queen
Celebrate the dead
Why won't we have more dead?
Cherish the frigid bodies in freezer
For lingering preparation longer
Vague promising
When born
During outdooring
Perhaps the happiest moment
But for a week
Child becomes weak
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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