Of abysmal length, my dart of curiosity licks away
thirsty with assurance, hungry for factual feedback
Of random moments, the claws of predestination - a mirage perhaps, has pricked and bored unjustly into this rind whose offence was being birthed
Such enigmatic sphere, dense with dearth of answers, answers that gallop upon hooves of logicality
I run daily, from fanatics, smart follies, their person is a combo of stinking adjectives, ailing verbs and spineless adverbs
Boxed in this cubicle of uncertainty, debilitating my darting quest
With a bleeding heart, how far can one go?
In mysterious linen, distinctive human issues clad before me. Of love, of life. Of destiny, of life span, of culture, of truth, of our rituals, of ...
Perhaps I'll be devoid of foggy self assertions
When hounds drag the fluffy skies with ravaging falcons
If you can, ply scrupulously through this jungle of bleeding letters and find me transfixed at the precipice
But if I take a plunge before you get here, then ...
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