This was the pain through the window 
in humility. 
Cannot catch a break in rambling 
rose, 
carrying the dead crown of 
a tryant. 
The blindness makes 
a presence. 
People are bidding farewell 
to the bloody son. 
I want to come in death 
now, after thousand years, 
living in violence 
of man. 
The untouchable moon 
was laughing.
- 
                        Author:    
     
	satishverma ( Offline) Offline)
- Published: July 27th, 2015 22:15
- Category: Nature
- Views: 15

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