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Saturday, 21 June 2014
WELL OF THE DEATH AND THE MOTER-BIKE RIDER
In this arena,
Encircled by fear,
It was forbidden to see,
Forbidden to cry out,
Forbidden to think.
Yet,
Concealing herself from the viewers,
Hiding from heaven and earth,
She did see,
She did cry out and
She did think,
The motor-bike rider, whose life was spent
Going round and round in circles.
Labels:
Poetry
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