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Bed Of Stone
Our living are captured by death
So impatiently loosing to win us
Like a bee on a flower at dawn
In hurriedness to pierced and sucked it nectar...


We are faraway close to victory
For this were called a peaceful war
Enemies are to treat friendly before executed
Like a dog that was offered a poisonous sweet meat
Later wailing tails to an untimely death...


We are busied running towards reverse
Questing for a successful failure
Like a drunkard man in gasping
In trying to break his daughter hymen...

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Miftaudeen Ridwan
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