Tormented thoughts could never speak the beauty of this world,
Nor the napped minds could make out some difference,
The flesh seeks its pristine soul with all rights,
Which the sickest mind could never provide,
As the symbol of the mighty I stand here to create all I might,
But the chains that bind me deny,
I pull and pull, Push away the all restrictions,
Still remains the remains of the ugliest,
That holds me into its claw that crush me,
This flesh is mine, this world is mine,
I lack the sleep of heaven,
I lack the sound of peace,
I lack myself as you always intervene,
And I am lost into the darkest of that dark in you…….


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