The poem
The poem was read
The stars are not visible, with clouds upon their shadow
I see the painted picture, the perfect picture
I did not like the reality it represent
Some illusion that cheated my sense
I felt beyond the real
Tasting the sweet tears and the salty sweat
Your possessive glands secrete
It begot a will to gather and travel ahead
Breaking on the way to the cruelty, nutured
How could art’s ugly hand torment?
A busy hand without the due leaf, denied
Brute aromatic leather , proudly seated
On the teacher’s palm
One lonely ear, not attention
Her hand dance and lip sings
As she tells us
Of the major hangover she had after the unreal and consumed
What blunder she try to raise question
‘Sorry! I did not raise my hand, but I was just attending to my itching scalp’.
In devoid dignity
How can a river turn into a desert?
The fun in fooling the stupid kid, derive the juice called respect
How unconscious, half the eye open- trying to move in
From one door to the other
Did you resume to assume and keep the judgments
High below thoughts
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