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Nov 2016
Life, *** and pain were
of mundane existence.
From where to where, we
have arrived.

*

From a bridge to bridge
you cross the river
without touching the water.

*

When a nameless projectile
downs your flight
you fall like rags
from the sky.

*

A spider runs
on tiptoes
you wilt like mimosa.

*

The ink spills
an the sheet
hiding the code.
Written by
Satsih Verma
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