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Articles: Poetry | OLDIES
- Ravi
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Desolate and alone, I and my wife stand at crossroads:
Like cursed orphans.
The border line not much though
with grayness and wrinkles bitingly stark.
Sweat, blood and tears shed
unwisely for demons, borne within.
Hope abandoned, promises unrealized
with no loved ones around to shoulder.
Senses all speared with pain, pampered but pricked
nevertheless to confound.
Death, we await thou eagerly
to reincarnate into avowed celibacy.
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