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In solemn consciousness,
I wanted to know, why
the shroud was white―
after the abandonment?

Peace or was it a surrender?
Is it the passive victory?
Are we betraying ourselves
in the reign of violence?

Reviving the cult of
collective suicides, I will
take more sins, wearing
the feather-crown.

Going for a black
hole from abattoir, still
dazed, I am leaving all
the question marks on your chest.

Do you know how
to tell the doomed fall?
Written by
Satsih Verma
   Yann and Beautifully Broken
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