Might well as i don't pretend
My land embraced a few bullets
Not dead
And breath that hover here
Only kissed some sedatives wherein they dwelt
So a shock will be a renaissance
As we all bleed for ancestral remembrance
We still are brooms that earth and dust throw annoyance
Strength is no passe' so we forward march our land
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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