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Knocking doors

By Eliezer Khiangte



Seven to ten lamps behind the road

Tis cold; for the flowers to bloom.

Doth wander, the day light glow,

Taking away thus, the night so cold.

Finishing this piece of bread he’d got,

Covered in ashes, why would it bother?





Doth Zeus’ wrath; who’ll save thou from him?

Wipe away from the face of the earth.

Careful as he slips from each hour,

Covering his torso and curled up legs

No worries of tomorrow, doth has nothing to lose,

Embracing the cold with wide open arms.

Sky as his roof and the ground as his floor

Singing oh so sweetly till his door finally knocks.



By Eliezer Khiangte




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