the time

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O` l`ll black belt on my hand

Thy bound me with thine two hands

Reminding time that I hath spend

Writing poem that reverent heart mend

Brimmed with gloomiest thoughts chained

With this harsh moment that hath strained

My body and soul will lead to an end


But o` clock

Thy can never entoil the flock

Of birds of words inside me

They would never stop

Crying deep inside me

Though they may look calm

For your one round

So that thy can hear your own sound

But one moment will come

When the chains thy mend

Will start losing their ends

And the rage smoking calm and slow

Will have some flow

As soon as the wind blow

The thoughts will start shining with glow

And then they won’t get in the riddle

Thy mend to hold

The day will come

When thine sound will be slow

And the voice silenced till now

Would be clear and no low


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