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Slave

he was drowned in the ocean of burned and dry leaves in the jungle of nothing in nowhere

when he got up he noticed a tattered and shabby shackle in distance

stood up in strive and the beads of sweat were pouring down out of his pallor face

like the drops of boiling water take a rest on the kettle lid and he was nowhere

getting closer to shelter of no door

he pushed the door in vein of hallucination
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Sunday, April 3, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: slave
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 31 August 2020

Quite a story written in verse.... very imaginative

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S.zaynab Kamoonpuri 01 October 2016

Wow a great freeverse in super metaphor wonderfully presented in ballade style. Thumbs up. Pls do review my latest poem too called poetry commentary.....

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Menato San 04 April 2016

Wow it's really beautiful. Nice work

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