The Biased Regret
Do I interrupt your solitary privacy,
When I pour on your horrible territories,
With hot steaming tears, cold shoulders,
Collecting all those thinking free garbage,
Running through the vixen canals,
To the fresh water oxidation ponds,
Am I a busy body when I blow away your wigs,
Of rococo architectures, jump through your windows,
To collapse your matrimonial shroud,
Rip open the weakened structures,
Pick up the boastful flamboyant boats,
to sail and exhibit in the middle of salt water brutes?
Am I a stranger and do I have a biased heart,
when I see you from thousand miles distance,
you are wearing the necklace of drought and,
call that as the noose to the farmers,
abandoned are always abandoned by everyone,
cherished are always cherished by everyone,
blame me not, should I have to repent or not?
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