words play games, un-ended,
Every day ,each night in dreams even,
Essence of daffodils stink even,
Like some rotten pile of garbage.....
I blindly move and run continuously,
In search of tag of piety,
When i am aware very well
The trends of prophecy and revealations of sacred word is obsolete....
I wait for miracle,
For faces to change
Their shapes,
From devils to fairies,
When round the clock i cant see anythng
But dark patches in dreary....
Call me optimist ,or a person with no wisdom,
I keep on moving after every blow hard,
For world is not tired of making me fall again and again...
Hiramalik
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