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Dead body
It's too cold for angels to fly up here,
It's too windy to raise a fire.
Explosion?
I don't know her.
And she doesn't care who or what she destroyed.
Life is just like a shard of frozen gold,
Coveted most when it cracks and ends.
Pardon me for being so bold,
But in the end even beauty here stinks.
Copyright ©
Mesbahul Haque
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