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Jun 2021
A bride who should be with a pride
Is murdered by her children; she cried
They not know; can't have the cold breeze
Where it is free of trees
Her tears, the long flowing rivers
She cries with sorrow, pain and shiver
Her attempts, the tall mountains
All faded human hearts, as a water fountain
Methmi Mandara
Written by
Methmi Mandara  14/F/Colombo, Sri Lanka
(14/F/Colombo, Sri Lanka)   
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