Introspection

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May 1, 2012 by rakesh kumar pandey

In my grave
(And)
Misfortune, I talked to
Myself; Peeping through
Porous soil to conjure
A few floral prints
Upon the shroud,

As I cried for her lullabies,
I couldn’t dissent myself:
His crutch must be now
Plucking flowers, that
Once used to warn me.

And,
I couldn’t see any suffering.

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