englishpoem30

want to be out

want to wander
like all others
but my legs
not tuned to 
my heart not
tuned to desire
that is buried
deep inside
something get
echoed sometime
not known
what is echoed
not heard properly
feeble tremors 
rocking the 
base of heart
regularly
so much is buried
with such gravity
pushes
that it is melted
in the boiling pot
the fumes emerges
contain no odor 
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