Sunday, 17 September 2017

Futile Venture

A child dug a hole, say its part of her own graveyard
On the butcher's table, she put down her own heart.

She is inside, but persisting to say "I am outside!"

The one who plays chess
But oblivion to its prices

Dear daughter,
The old man knows no longing.
The old man knows no yearning.

How will you say you forfeit the heart?
The old man doesn't even hear its beat

The conundrum you've chosen
Bringing less merit of providence

Dear child digging the grave
Where there lay down a belief

In futile venture,
He doesn't turn

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