It came to a stop
A pause.
My thought confused, many, rough
Like the sand
You turn me around
Kre... kre... kre...
Like a berk
Never, my emotions: never correct
And i came to know
That you swept my dark pot
And wiped the ills in my spine
For eighteen and more years a life
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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