Monday, December 26, 2011


Windy, rusted, woke up the morning like a Camel in a desert,
Perfectly cameoflagued, the color wont show its presence neither its efforts,
Rounded and grounded evry step was catious and made out of risk,
Eyes wide open, jotted down every sun ray and the searched for predators in every sand he frisked,

Soon he reached the Oasis, what he thought, turned out to be a moat,
Filled with dirt and dead predators, skeletons, sight, unsighted, could feel the desperation of the throat,
Still walking, what god had gifted him, stradled on, to far unfair visions,
Skin and bones, ripped, but the spirit still high and unknown to the wavy horizons,

Whomsoever you meet, greet and then retreat, are full of surprises and strange misdeeds,
Covering the faces they bear within their shadows is a very well disguised feed,
Move away and not run, because one day you will land up in their own creed,
The world is full of fury and anger, the unrest is the justified soul bearing all but the solid hollowness of thee,

Left alone at the end, no matter what all boundings he may have had,
There was no emotion, no feeling left in him, and couldnt be deemed as sad,
The more he tried the more he fought and the more he felt like lost,
It all came down to meanings and expressions, and the moments in which he used to get caught,

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