Clutching to this Choking guilt of existence,
His neck held deadly scars,
Detaining his hands,
He puts his fingers,
Deep inside the eroding,
Adoring fire,
Sparkling Dark and that too lit.
Now,
Even though the slaying winds come to him,
They are often amused by the unhindered grim,
Would the clouds at least please?
Aah they are unfortunately; responsible for
excessively; Grasped Release.
Then,
The shore would owe him
The splendid rise,
And the set,
Oceans resided in his heart
Through them he carried
His insecure carts,
And the Dolphins made it easy for him,
So,
Despite this hurdles,
Regardless of scars,
In him, lives
An Impulse,
Looking at the stars,
The ones that are not too far,
How?,
Reunion of bars,
Tiny gates,
That set him to stay out,
Still one or the other day,
He will have the key,
That makes them fade away.
Until then?
He won't hesitate,
To chop his head
With his own Stabbing sword.
And that too lit.
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