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by Mihir Deshmukh Dec 20, 2014
So this is how I end,
burning with a hectic glow.
Providing no warmth or light,
burning away selfishly, though.
I feel my pomp burning,
my fat melting to rivers of sludge.
My heart so cold didn't ignite,
and to burn it, I didn't try much.
My valleys of blood have already dried,
leaving behinds streaks of blue.
Still alive is this bastard brain,
about my end, everything he knew.
So as I make the endless fall,
I see a fire but nothing burn.
"It's no good to have hollow bones",
from this life: it's all I could learn.
by Michael D Nalley
This poem reflects the morrow of despair , but is very skillfully written
by Mihir Deshmukh
Thank you sir!!