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A Slave to Paradise
Becoming a slave to my own paradise,
Becoming clingy to my own disregarded appetites,
Becoming a prisoner of my own created prison,
Becoming lonesome in my own crowd.
Recognising something lethal,
Pouring out something eternal,
Bearing some dirt of civilisation,
Tearing apart the burden of my own existence.
I've created my own traps,
Living forever in my own satire.
No appeal on the docket today;
I crave the unseens.
When the sins are unseen,
What verdicts can there be?
When the prisoner is the judge,
Is he called a metaphor of his own book?
So I've hold my head up high—
Hiding hatred that burns inside.
Perhaps this is not the last;
Perhaps this is an endless circle.
Copyright ©
Abir Sawran
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