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By Amisha Tiwari


The river kept the drowning sun,

Like it was hers to keep.

But they couldn’t merge together,

For they were of worlds to grieve.

I found these grievances of outer world,

That managed to find home within.

A displacement that obliged to crawl out,

Whenever the storms curled in.

A rage of rain that poured out,

Carried a womb of millions life.

She knew how it felt to be drowned

By thorns acting like safety barricades.

The bleeding hands served the purpose

Crucifixion and hymn for the perfect execution!

  • Amisha

By Amisha Tiwari

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