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Doomed fate…

July 7, 2015


The furnace burns,
The soul tires,
The mind wanders,
The heart in million predictable pieces ,
The crow dies,
The wolf loses its pack,
It can’t stop roaming,
Eternal suffering and dreams piled in bones .
The hand giving up on the straw,
The ball falling off the court,
Stitching your wound to hide the suffering.
No amount of masquerade can  overturn fate ,
The philosopher’s gun meant for the ignorant masses became the key for the ‘suicide doors’


From → dark poetry

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