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I burnt the effigy of the old customs
Is it  a sin,
amidst the snowy chilled world Iam standing,
Grant me thy courage to withstand
And  forbear the ransom
That which strangles my existence….
 
I , born to be thus,
A silent crusader,
A life long fighter,
What shall then
stop my battle…
behold, I watch the world mutely,
beware!
my ink  screams with utmost intensity!
 
The  pen  dwells through my veins
narrating the tale of agony and miseries!
does the splendid  ink speak of glory
or stories magnanimously  told as lie!
 
whatever it  echoes , it shall resonate
the sordid  reality
of   mankind!
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4 Comments

  1. Hope and inspiration for the stumbling poet, thank you

  2. Brave, Soumya. :)


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