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Comments about Biplab Roy
Give You What Is Yours
victory is all that i don't mean now,
my barn is full of golden achievements,
the wordsmith sent me an applause of my high ranks
and there the proof of my excellence, perches down
since ages of my last brawl, yet i doubt its right place.
having come of age, when drips of consciousness splash
on my head, trickling notions galvanize my elation
and conflicting verdicts topple over my fence of emotions,
the faith of myself i seem to break, falls with a crash
as i see the setting sun and the homecoming match. (match of Nightingale: collective noun for birds)