Tuesday, 12 June 2018

Gone

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Gone

A cent sometimes conquers whole human
In this world of I and my,
And soul is lost very deep in the body.

If a human body crush in machine;
To get whole gold, silver, iron, zinc...
Not more than a nickel ye will earn,
And only a cookies pack ye can buy.

But no place for soul in the rubbish,
Self-melee and melancholy the greatest gain
In the calculating chances and tasks;
And thus an end before the very start.

Truth is gone from heart's cottage,
It's like an angel flying high,
And even its shadow not reaches to touch.
 

Jack Elixir

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