A tired body,
An exhausted soul
Never imitates you.
No,
It’s not a jeer
Neither a jealous trail:
“You shine
And the proud shone along.”
But,
All along
I praised the moments.
But,
I usually cry
Every single sight,
At evry single sight.
No,
I cry not for the predicament.
I cry,
When I see you.
You,
You are no more.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
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