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A mediocre

You're enjoying I'm creating Neither hundred percent Nor the hundredth of whole Only like a mediocre of You and me. As long as I'm writing My poem bridges the gap Even though a single Atom of us.

Warmness of days


Sun began to grow hot,
Immoderate hot,
No scanty shadow of tree,
Here I got.

The whole body turns
Into spasm
When sun smiles
In sarcasm.

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