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Wednesday, 4 February 2009


Drifting with the screen of shaft in gloom
Sounds of the breeze swinging so smooth

Heat takes a toll on pure human life
Darkness of the room stagnates below

Rhyming things was a thing of the past
Flying by was a thing just before the present

Gifted I would say were the souls out here
Divine & glorified is the atmosphere in here

Calm & soothing are the voices of the demons
Holding on to the strings of this pen were sermons

Hymns & prayers could save the hour
Work is what id ask for rather.

Ajay Padattil

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