A city prepares to die. 
What is the real time now 
for blemishing the skin of a man? 
In your violet eyes 
I will find a moon 
for an encounter. 
An alien wall comes up 
between us.We cannot shed 
the veils of clouds. 
I hate brother, hate the 
ambassadors of death 
in the voluptuousness of greed. 
Remember, 
O my shadow, 
dying was a great art.
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                        Author:    
     
	satishverma ( Offline) Offline)
- Published: August 14th, 2015 20:06
- Category: Nature
- Views: 15

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