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Deep 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.

— The End —