May be lotus flowers born in this mud ditch have attracted you
But what I am is the dirt of insanity and thorn roots of lunacy
Nothing good for you, not even a drop of optimism to offer
What remains is autumn and summer, no more spring, no more hope
No more buds that awaits another spring
Only flowers awaiting the autumn to wither
And the summer in which I dries and dies
Forget the dirt in your next sleep, wake up to a better tomorrow
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1 Response Jan 13, 2013

njaan onnum parayanilla
ahem ahem