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Shivam Jun 2014
The sky start shading,
flashlight flicking it all the way,
vehicles honking all away.
I stand day,
among desolated trees.

Bulbs start glowing
Birds cease chirping
Wind still whistling
I stand still,
among desolated trees

Moths start flying in hoping
I too love them tonight.
They crave for light
that killed all last night.
I stand lone,
among desolated trees

My light starts fading as
the dawn starts gazing.

So now I stand on paved
ground turned off,
hoping you do heart me
Is all that I pray.
It's about the lamppost in busy market along which couples takes photos. Where a man stand in hat and face covered and gives us the solemn look of lamppost.    

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Your valuable suggestion are welcome.
Doll May 2014
you
me
the world
life  
being alive
being me
breathing

everything
B Zells Apr 2014
In all of the pages that you wrote
There was never once talk of the past
In every single story that was sold
You locked away all stories to be told

All of these letterboxes used to leave me love
All of the hopeful words you could dream of
But now your past is dead
The future wades in your head
To your new self
I say goodbye

Well, should I change? Must I remain?
Should I love you all the same?
March on steady to the beat of that drum
If it’s gonna go- I’m going this way, on this line

All of the people had the notion to speak
All of the words, now so weak
Surrounded now, blank white walls
Paint a life, your world calls
To some motivation
I say hello.

I’ll walk until I think I’ll stop
Rest awhile ‘till you catch up
Put my boots next to the fire
While the body and my mind do conspire

All of the birds would sing their song
Don’t mind at all if I sing along
In a quiet world sound erupts
The chant of choir soon conducts
To this plague of mice-like men
I shed a tear.

Beat, beat on that black-laced drum
The march that gets every man from
A kingdom to a kingdom in the sky
Living in a world of life just waiting to die.

All of the eyes were looking stern
All of my letters have been burnt
Carry coal from that mine
Who knows, he, she, or mine?
And tip my hat to whom it may concern.

— The End —