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The Dumps
 
The words had started to fail me.
There was always an if'\
before every war of hunger.

The candlewick has burned
out. I am collecting the\
wax from the eyes.

Wrapped agony, now lifts
the dead bird from the
rose bushes.

The frosted god
will melt to bare a
black stone.

I am not luck
I am not the future.
You know where this path leads into?

By satishverma

© 2019 satishverma (All rights reserved)

 

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