It is unfair
You are shooting in air
It is unfair
To shoot arrow
That shall not go with direct hit
Who knows?
What you miss?
Who has left you?
Or if at all it is true!
Poets
Simply remain quiet
And state
In illusory fate
Wherever he may be
He shall be happy
And totally worry free
And observing under tree
You may miss
After getting no peace
In mind
And nights remaining not kind
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