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Aug 1
You were like a white
gold for nirvana. Unstoppable.
Running to get the meaning of love.

Unlocked, my empty
hands, hold only the pen. This was
the agony of exile.

The water slips from the
eyes. The angel was secular. The torture
of standing in dark hurts. Which house was burning?
Written by
Satsih Verma
64
 
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