PEN
With my hands
Well creased
by time
makes my pen speak...
No floods of tears
nor rains of thought
can destroy them...
Questions arises
I see the pen
clasping between fingers
I write of people fortune.
With my hands
Well creased
by time
makes my pen speak...
No floods of tears
nor rains of thought
can destroy them...
Questions arises
I see the pen
clasping between fingers
I write of people fortune.
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