At the bell of freedom
We sprung to flee
Naked
That one we forgot
Soon it caught up with us: our doom
Yet again we flee: but not free
Oh naked
That one was our lot
But now our minds do we groom?
Uncertainty belie our navel hanging
like a peach on a tree
Why naked
That is why we rot
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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