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Blessed are not the child with silver spoons but with the grace of making it better. Curse are not the one with half meal a day but with the disgrace of making it worse. Success and failure happens to both, we are all the same, only a different package we comes in.

Friday, June 11, 2010

The Taste of Blood



Blinded fingers, sliding fluid,
A basketful of snakes in the hole.
Rapture above forbidden sources,
Carving the path for a place in the sun.

The river that never dries,
The wind that never swifts,
Has all reinvented its history,
To harvest a new source.

The taste of blood,
As raw as its smells,
You made the God bleed.
And now you are dying to destroy yourself.

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