Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Girl who wanted to be the Pauper

intangible egos
rise up, as I drown further into
into my tryst with destiny.

they flutter
invincibly into the waters
escaping judgments that surround.

hits the head
thoughts clatter and dash against it
thudding into a orgasmic symphony

rushes from membranes to the sea-floor
I feel happy and at peace,
Another Dead poet writes a story,
that is seldom remembered,but often rehearsed.

(The stage curtains bow down,
we come to the end of a beginning
let this poet die and maybe the next time,
She would become the pauper with the prince blood.)

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