So many times
we burn our own toil
cling to our fears
let them lives spoil
like the well done
kneaded tended dough
halfhearted, wretchedly
in the furnace throw
pain, imagined slight
burns in inward peep
so dear to our chest
we often happily keep
eagerly our ears listen
to demons guttural knell
glumly wait and let
some magic burn to hell
Original,
14th Dec,2k12
Islamabad.
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