Sunday Poem By Shampa Saha


I forgot to sing any innosent song
Without the essence of blood
Greeds misdeeds scrambled my heart
And throws in a corner among
All the crowd are so silent
No noise no laughter no adorable call
Only weeps and sobs prevail
No stretched hands to avail the warmth
Greens turned into grey dark cloud
Hopeless sighs are whirling
Humanity takes it’s last breath
Before it moves last furling.

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