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Feb 2021
Hope is drying up
Like a Well dries after the monsoon,
Sitting in this room, alone and aloof,
I have counted the stains on the wall,
None of it is more prominent than the
One I have with me, I'm a social pariah,
like an untouchable, polluted with death;
Run, Run away from me,
I hold death in my lungs.
Deep
Written by
Deep  25/Delhi
(25/Delhi)   
380
   Bogdan Dragos and waskosims
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