Saturday, May 14, 2016

what all.

flying it looked
throbbed me
who I am

deserts of wishes
storms come
sit
as if
wanna talk of

winds blow past
I could make
shattered it looks
may have

sands make
bristle s
roses of heart
it s smell like
say a bit

slow and fast

winds blow

I take
a stride

what all
it says. 

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