By Sriram
Archdukes have an affinity for a stagnant cause
standing on the edge to cede its morpheme.
For us, on the horizon off a white-
on a back of tractions is of an astonished
ravel on its hay.
Cubs’ pubs and the real luffs of life
like a mere symphony on a fabricated veal.
Oh! A precious night! Supressed as a vitreous high
of a far dome femtohm, I per say a vision.
Armour, for he shall pledge a lesson.
A divine famine, an alveoli of pillars edict the rulers.
Conspicuous oh he shall bury! The spark awaits....
Serve the serpent and repent the kin.
Akin the oblivion is an inevitability.
I say a good life, THAT'S IT.
By Sriram
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