In the arrogance of my silence I stand,
Facing the hill of pressure,
Sweat and tears rolling down,
The fears of my voice spoke with assurance,
My day is fighting to bloom,
But my time asking for insurance,
Is it really hard?
Further is a bedlam,
Needful for the miscarriage of my mind,
Though the vision knows no limit,
With the cries of time,
This protest...
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