The Dead - Poem by Rakhi Oza
At the tick of mid, I walked through lanes of the graveyard.. The dead woke up and joined my way.. We walked for miles, we talked for miles.. We ended up sailing in the same boat.. I realized they were in a better state as they were just pure souls then!
They laughed over my weakness as their strength lied in their purity. I was the one with Mask between them!
They made fun of my helplessness as no dirty games were ever played by them. I was the Gray one between them!
They felt pity for my fake smile as they bear real tears throughout! I was the Painted face between them!
They were amazed when I shared my nightmares as their dreams were sacred indeed. I was the Isomanic bitch between them!
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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